Mechanical Breakdown
by FictionWriter91
Summary: One night, Emily witnessed something she shouldn't have, but she is rescued before she is killed. Her rescuer, Arthur Bishop, is a hitman who failed his mission, and he promises to keep her safe against his better judgment. The two figure out how to get along while Arthur finds the man trying to kill her, but Emily has a secret, and that secret is what bonds them together.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back with another story already. Honestly, my brain never stops, and that is sometimes a curse lol. Anyway, I watched both Mechanic movies with Jason Statham again, and of course I got another story idea about his character with Emily from Devil Wears Prada. Maybe it's dumb, but hopefully someone gets some enjoyment out of it.**

**If you have seen the first Mechanic film, then you'll see that I've started this story not too long after Harry McKenna's death and will be following the storyline after that.**

**I am always nervous to post a new story, so please be kind.**

**P.S. Mechanic=Hitman**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

**2011**

Arthur Bishop was a man who got things done and done well. He was the one called to clean up a mess, and he did so with such precision that the majority of the time, it looked like an accident. It took a certain mindset to do what he did, but at the end of the day, he slept just fine. Most of the time.

"Don't screw this one up," his boss, Dean Sanderson, had told him earlier that day. Arthur felt affronted by this. Had he ever "screwed" one up before?

"All right," he said to himself now as he entered the house of his next target. He'd worked it all out to perfection, just like he always did. David Stevenson was not the man he let on he was to his wife and children. In fact, David Stevenson had a woman on the side, and Arthur was pretty sure the wife had no idea. He crept through the house quietly, keeping his breathing low and level. Killing someone took precision and no emotion. Sometimes Arthur would feel emotion, but not all the time. This had started off with no emotion until he saw the photo of the twin girls on the hall table. He paused and closed his eyes briefly, feeling that pang of "what the hell am I doing?"

"Stop it," he told himself. David Stevenson had hurt children much younger than those twins, and Arthur knew they'd be better off without him. Still, it made him think about how they were going to feel growing up without a father, just like he had. At least they would still have their mother, unlike Arthur, who had been an orphan. David Stevenson was a target that hit a little close to home for Arthur because he was just like the two men who ruined Arthur's life: the one who sold him and the one he was sold to.

A noise startled Arthur out of his thoughts, and he stopped. He ducked out of sight as a tall man dressed in black came around the corner. Arthur shoved himself into the hall closet and wondered just what the hell was going on. David Stevenson was his target, so why was there someone else in the house right now? He heard the person going up the stairs, and he went to open the door when there was sudden shouting and a gunshot went off. There was more shouting followed by the sound of a body falling onto the floor above Arthur.

"No, please..." a voice begged. Arthur was pretty sure that was David Stevenson.

Then, the front door opened, and someone else walked into the house.

...

Emily Charlton wondered just what the hell she was still doing delivering The Book and being Miranda Priestly's First Assistant as she walked into Miranda's house. It was five years since Andrea had come and gone. Five. Emily admired that woman for getting out and doing what she wanted because Emily was too afraid to follow suit.

"Oh, honestly," she muttered to herself as she heard some thumping upstairs. Couldn't Miranda wait for Emily to be there and gone before doing stuff with her husband? Emily wondered why Miranda bothered to even get married for a third time. It didn't make sense to her. The woman was horrible and clearly couldn't keep any sort of relationship going with anyone let alone another husband. She set The Book on it's designated table and headed over to the closet with the dry cleaning over her shoulder. She pushed open the door and snapped the light on just as she heard the scream.

"NOOOO!"

Then a gunshot. Emily dropped the dry cleaning and stood frozen for a millisecond until she opened her mouth to scream herself.

...

The woman was not part of the plan. She was supposed to be there the next night, not that night. Arthur saw her about to scream, and he grabbed a hold of her while clamping his hand over her mouth. She struggled instantly.

"If you make a sound, we're both dead," he said in her ear. Obviously another mechanic was upstairs finishing off the job that Arthur was supposed to do. This was not good. Dean was going to be so pissed, and Arthur hated to admit that he had screwed this up.

The woman elbowed him hard in the stomach and managed to get out of his grip. She tore out of the closet, and Arthur just knew this was going to end badly.

...

Emily ran for it. She reached the door in time to hear thudding on the stairs. She whipped around to see a man standing there looking at her, his gun aimed at her. She screamed as she ran back the other way. The first man from the closet was right behind her, but she pushed around him and fled back the other way towards the back door.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," she whimpered as she yanked the back door open. She could hear one of the men chasing after her. Hands grabbed her from behind once she was outside, making her shriek.

"Come on," the man from the closet said urgently. "We gotta go." For whatever reason, she decided to trust him. He grabbed her hand tightly and ran for it with her. Emily didn't even look back to see if they were being followed. A few blocks down, they stopped at a truck.

"Get in," he ordered. Emily realized what she was doing here. She was getting herself into another dangerous situation.

"How do I know you're not just gonna kill me?" she asked.

"You'd already be dead," he answered seriously. She swallowed hard. He had a point. He could have just killed her in the closet, the hallway, or outside. Against all better judgment, she got into the truck.

...

Arthur wondered what the hell he was doing, taking this woman with him. All he knew was that she was going to be considered a witness to David Stevenson's murder by the other mechanic, and she would most certainly be hunted down and killed.

He ignored her as she sat rocking in her seat with her head in her hands. He was thinking about what he was going to do. He wished he could ask his mentor, Harry McKenna, what to do, but the man was dead. Arthur had been hired to kill him by Dean for selling out their fellow men on a mission and getting them all killed. Arthur pinched his nose then, remembering. Harry had told him he wouldn't have wanted anyone else to kill him (and Dean had warned he would send someone else), but that still didn't make him feel any better about it. Harry's son, Steve McKenna, who had no idea Arthur had killed his father, was currently living at Harry's place until it was sold, and Arthur already knew he was going to cave and teach him how to be a mechanic because he felt he owed Harry that much. How was he going to have this girl around and do that at the same time? No. He was going to have to find a place for her to go. Then again, where could she go that was considered safe? His head was in a jumble.

"What's going to happen to me?" she asked then, her voice a ragged whisper. Arthur figured they'd been driving long enough to be off the other mechanic's radar for now. He pulled over into a parking lot and stopped. Then he turned to look at her.

She was very thin. Her blue eyes were wide with fear, and her auburn hair was framing her face wildly.

"He's going to find and kill you," Arthur answered truthfully.

"What?!" she yelped. "Why?"

"Because you saw him. You know he killed David."

"This can't be happening..." she said, shaking her head.

Arthur didn't really see another option. She could go to the police, but it wouldn't matter. A mechanic was good at their job. She still wouldn't be safe. No. He knew what had to be done here, and he groaned inwardly.

"You're gonna have to stay with me," Arthur said. "Until this blows over or I find him."

"What? No. No, no, no," she shook her head hard. "Absolutely not."

Arthur grabbed his file then and slammed it down on the middle console, making her jump. He opened it roughly and jabbed his finger at her photo.

"If I know who you are, where you work, and your everyday routine right down to when you take a shit, then so does he."

The woman stared in horror at her picture before looking up at him.

"You were stalking me?" she asked, her voice jumping up a pitch.

"No," he shook his head. "I was doing recon for my target. I saw you at the house, and I had to know who you were and why you were there. That's all."

"Your target?" she asked. "Wait...were _you_ there to kill David?!"

It was out there now, and he did look the part with his black outfit and gun.

"Yes," he answered truthfully. She looked shocked.

"Why?" she asked.

"I could tell you things about him that would make you feel so dirty that no shower would ever get it off," he replied. "He's done things that your imagination wouldn't even begin to understand."

The woman did not respond, but he saw her registering it all.

"This...this other person who killed him...he's not with you?" she asked.

"No. He's someone else sent to kill David."

"And he knows how to find me?"

"If I do, then he does."

"So...where do I go?" she asked tearfully.

"I already told you," he answered, still looking at her. It was crazy, he knew that, but he also knew that if he didn't, this woman was going to die, and for some reason, Arthur did not want her to die.

...

Emily was freaking out, but she did her best to remain reserved. This man was obviously a contract killer, a hit man. He had rescued her from another hit man, and now he was offering her to stay with him until the other man went away or got dealt with. Emily knew he was right, that she'd be dead within the hour if she went back home, and that was what was scaring her the most, knowing she was being hunted. She wished she knew why she had so much trust in the man sitting beside her in this truck, but something told her that he wasn't going to hurt her, that he really did want to help her. Something about him reminded her of someone else who had always made her feel safe: her father.

"I'm Emily," she said.

"I know," he nodded.

"And you are?" she asked, bristling inside a little.

"Arthur."

"Somehow I don't think that's your real name," she commented.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" he asked, annoyed. The woman he'd had a one night stand with recently, Sarah, had said the same thing when he'd told her his name.

"Because you look more like a-"

"Do not say Brad," he cut her off, pointing his finger at her. It's what Sarah had said he looked like. She had also said he looked like a David, ironically. Emily tilted her head at him.

"I can kind of see it actually," she noted.

"Are you coming or are you going to go home and get yourself killed?" he asked roughly.

"Well, Arthur, I guess I'm going with you because I kind of like being alive," she answered. He put the truck in gear again while giving her a nod. Then they were off.

...

Arthur didn't say another word as they drove. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but something about Emily made him want to help her. When he'd been watching her for his recon, he couldn't help but feel a pull towards her. She was feisty and strong minded, not to mention her intensity for what she did at work. She didn't deserve to die because she got caught in the middle of something. Arthur already knew who the other mechanic was, and he knew her odds weren't good if she was left on her own. He thought of Steve, then, and he hoped that Steve wouldn't harass Emily.

"Thank you," Emily said after a moment, making him look at her.

"For what?" he asked.

"For wanting to keep me safe," she replied. "I get the feeling you don't do this."

"I don't."

"So...thank you," she said again.

"Don't thank me yet," he told her. This was far from over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you, Guest, for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying this story so far.**

* * *

Miranda Priestly fainted upon coming home and seeing all the blood in her house. There were police outside along with paramedics and what appeared to be a coroner. She had barely heard the policewoman tell her that her husband, David, had been shot and killed. Caroline and Cassidy were at a friend's place, and Miranda was glad they were not there to witness everything. Then, she'd seen all the blood and fainted.

"Ma'am?" a voice called. She felt a hand shake her shoulder. "Ma'am, are you all right?"

Miranda opened her eyes and found herself on the ground.

"Ma'am, you fainted," the voice continued. She saw it was a paramedic. "Just take it easy, all right?"

She sat up slowly, remembering all over again what happened.

"Do you know who would want to kill your husband?" the policewoman, Sherry, asked. She was African American, average height, and with long black hair tied into a tight bun under her police hat. Miranda shook her head.

"Everyone loved him..." she said.

"There was dry cleaning on the floor by the closet," Sherry went on. "The closet door was open. Did you have someone else in the house?"

Miranda's mind raced. Who had been in her house? Then she remembered. Emily brought her dry cleaning along with The Book. She got to her feet and walked towards the table in the hallway with the flowers.

"Ma'am, wait..." Sherry said, following her hastily.

"Emily," Miranda said, touching The Book with her finger. "Emily was here. She brings me this and my dry cleaning."

"Okay. Do you think she witnessed what happened?" Sherry asked. "Or do you think she did it?"

"Emily? Please," Miranda snorted. Unless...

"You're thinking of something," Sherry noted, watching Miranda's face.

"Well..." Miranda started. No, it was absurd. Wasn't it? She thought hard. David had always said he didn't like Emily, that he didn't trust her. Why would he keep saying that unless there was a good reason to?

"What is it?" Sherry pressed.

"David didn't trust her," Miranda said slowly. "And come to think of it, Emily used to talk about him and say she didn't like him at all. She thought I wouldn't hear that from the gossip circle. They also told me that Emily threatened to harm him if he ever touched her again." Miranda tossed her head. It had been surprising to hear that Emily didn't like David. She had claimed David had tried to touch her inappropriately once, which Miranda just chalked up to a cry for attention. David was a good man.

"What is her full name?" Sherry asked, getting her pen and paper ready.

"Emily Charlton."

"Did she ever go into detail about when David touched her? Did he touch her?" Sherry asked.

"He denied it, and I believed him. Emily can be troublesome at times, stir up drama and such."

"Okay. Thank you. We will look into her," Sherry promised.

Miranda started to cry again, thinking about David being dead. What was she going to do now?

...

When the plane landed, Arthur and Emily walked to where his truck was parked. As they drove, Arthur thought more about the situation he was in. Emily fell asleep quite easily. She was tired of thinking and wondering what was going to happen next. When Arthur reached the boathouse, he stopped and turned off the engine, looking over at her. She looked almost too peaceful to disturb, but they had to keep moving. He reached over and squeezed her shoulder.

"Hey," he said. "Wake up."

"Are we there?" she asked groggily, waking up quickly.

"Almost. Little bit more."

"Where the hell are we? Booniesville?" she asked, unbuckling her seat belt and stretching.

"Sort of," Arthur smiled briefly.

"You're not gonna murder me out here, are you?" she questioned, giving him a look.

"Do we have to go over that again?" he countered.

"I have a mean right cross," she warned. "I may look fragile and delicate, but I know how to fight."

"Really," Arthur said, looking at her. He would not have taken her for someone who knew how to fight.

"Self defense class," she lied.

"Ah."

He got out of the truck then, and she followed. He grabbed his bag and walked over to his boat. Emily looked around them. It was a pretty environment, she had to admit. She stepped off the dock into Arthur's boat gingerly, ignoring his outstretched hand for help.

"Whoa!" she yelped as her foot got caught on the side of the boat. She lurched forward, landing in Arthur's arms as he caught her before she fell flat on her face.

"Sorry, sorry," she said hastily, getting her balance back. "I'm tired, and I don't have good balance when I'm tired."

"It's all right," Arthur assured her as she stood to the side, waiting. There was something about the feel of her in his arms that felt nice. He shook his head. He'd just met her for crying out loud. What was wrong with him?

Emily noticed a lump of coats on a chair sitting on the dock. She didn't think anything of it until the lump started to talk.

"You got company?" it asked.

Emily yelped, startled.

"Just a friend," Arthur answered. "Emily, meet Henry."

"Hello," Emily said, giving a small wave. Henry waved back, grinning.

"Pretty friend," he noted.

"You're embarrassing her, Henry."

Emily indeed had gone bright red in the face.

"The alcohol fairy hasn't been to visit recently," Henry commented, switching topics.

"Did you go through the last one already?" Arthur asked. He was said alcohol fairy. He left a bottle of something on Henry's lap while he slept every so often.

"I sure did."

"I'll mention it," Arthur promised. Henry grinned again as Arthur started the engine and reversed out of his spot. Emily hugged herself, and Arthur realized she had no coat and would probably get cold on this boat ride since it was damp that morning. He got the boat straightened out and began to take his coat off as they headed towards the sunrise.

"Here," he said, handing it to her. She looked at it before taking it.

"Thank you," she replied. She put it on and immediately felt the warmth from Arthur's body on hers. She sat on the edge of carpeted wood platform behind Arthur gingerly, wondering how much longer it would be until she could properly sleep.

...

Sherry chewed on the end of her pen as she looked at her computer screen. She had done a search on Emily Charlton, and she had been surprised by what she had found. It was beginning to look like Emily could possibly be a suspect after all. If she was the only other person in that house at the time of the murder, then it was highly likely it was her who had done it. Sherry began to twirl her pen in her fingers now. They hadn't found any other evidence to suggest another person had been there aside from Emily, and Miranda had an alibi, as did the twin girls. Then there was Miranda telling her that Emily had threatened to harm David. Had she killed him in self defense and panicked? Had Emily waited for him to be home alone before going to attack him and kill him out of revenge? There was obviously more to this story, but only Emily was alive to tell the rest of it. She had to find her.

"Well?" her boss, Jack, asked. He was a tall man, six foot three, and Caucasian. His blonde hair was cut close to the scalp.

"I'm going to be looking into this Emily Charlton," Sherry said, tapping the screen with the end of her pen.

"Oh yea?"

"Yea."

"Good luck. Keep me posted."

"Will do."

Sherry got up and put her coat on, grabbing her keys as she walked out of the office.

...

Emily was impressed at Arthur's home as they pulled into the dock. He got out and tied the boat before helping her out, which she took this time to save herself from falling again and embarrassing herself further. She noticed that she liked the feel of his hand in hers, which was peculiar since she had just met him. Then again, it had been quite some time since she'd been touched by a man in any way. They walked together towards the house, and Arthur unlocked it to let them in.

"Wow," she said, looking around as he set down his bag and went towards the fridge for a water. He offered her one, but she declined.

"It's home," he replied. Emily was in love with it. She envied that he got to live there all the time. She wandered over to where an old record player was sitting.

"I did not take you for a record kind of guy," she commented, looking at him.

"I have my surprises," he shrugged. "I also have two rules: don't touch the records or the player, and don't touch my car."

"Your car?" she asked.

"In the garage."

"Okay," she nodded. "I think I can follow those rules."

"Good."

"Now, where is a bed that I can face plant into?" she asked. She was so tired now.

"This way," Arthur said, showing her. Even the guest room was amazing.

"Ohhhh yea," she sighed happily, falling onto the bed ungracefully.

"Bathroom's over there," he pointed, smiling a little. She lifted her head from the pillow to look at him.

"I have my own bathroom?" she asked. "Geez. This is like my whole apartment in one room."

"Later we can go out and get you some things," he offered. He knew she only had the clothes on her back. He also knew that women liked to have more than just the clothes on their backs on top of other things they needed.

"Thank you," she murmured, already falling asleep. Arthur left, shutting the door behind him. He was going to get some shut eye himself before planning his next move.

...

"Ms. Charlton?" Sherry called, knocking on the door. No one answered. She tapped her foot, waiting. Where was Emily? It wasn't looking good for this woman not being here. It was now seven in the morning. Why wasn't she home at seven in the morning? Unless she was an early riser and out for a run.

"You're looking for Emily?" an elderly man asked, stopping in the hallway.

"Yes. Is she home?"

"She didn't come home last night at her usual time," he replied. "And I always know when she's home. Her door makes a racket when it opens."

"Okay. Thank you," Sherry nodded.

"Is she in some kind of trouble?" he asked.

"No," Sherry answered. It was sort of truthful. Technically Emily was not in trouble...yet. She waited for the man to leave before breaking into Emily's apartment. The old man was right. The door did make one hell of a noise when it opened and shut. Sherry flinched, knowing the man would know she went in there. She looked around, seeing that things were tidy. She began to search for clues, not really knowing what she'd find. When she reached Emily's bedroom, she opened the nightstand drawer and inhaled sharply.

The handgun glared back up at her.

...

Emily woke that afternoon with her face stuck to the pillow thanks to her own drool. She wiped her face, grimacing. Then she remembered where she was, and she sat up to take in the room again. There were a lot of windows, but they all had curtains, not that they'd need to be used. The house was very isolated, and there wasn't any other houses across the way with a view into the room. She got up and used the washroom (marveling at it's incredibleness) before going out to the living room. She found Arthur sitting at a table and looking at papers. He was on the phone.

"I know who it was," he was saying. "I know, Dean, this is bad. Good. You do that." He hung up and paused, seeing Emily standing there.

"Hi," she waved.

"Hey."

"Are you in trouble?" she asked. "Was that your boss?"

"He's just annoyed," Arthur answered, dismissing it. "Don't worry. We'll get the guy, and you can go home."

"You're gonna have to drag me out of here now," she teased, sitting across from him. "This place is a thousand times better than my dingy apartment."

Arthur didn't answer, but he did chuckle. She looked at the papers, seeing David's face on one of them.

"He was really bad?" she asked, tugging it over to her. Arthur stopped her and slid it back towards him, picking them all up and putting them away now.

"Yea, he was," he answered. He didn't think she needed to read the gory details of what David had done to other human beings. He reached for his glass of water.

"I never liked him," she went on. "Never. Then there was the time he tried to get into my pants."

Arthur choked on the water he had sipped at this.

"Excuse me?" he asked, wiping his chin.

"Yea. It was at this one benefit, and he cornered me alone in a hallway and tried to have his way with me," Emily said. "Miranda, his wife and my boss, did not believe me."

"What?"

"I know," Emily sighed. "He had it that I was untrustworthy and lying for attention. I've been debating leaving my job for a while now because of him."

"She sounds like a terrible boss," Arthur commented.

"She is," Emily agreed, resting her chin on her hand and looking at him. Arthur shifted uncomfortably at her gaze. It was like she could see into his soul or something, and it unnerved him. He cleared his throat.

"You ready to go out?"

"Yes," she nodded vigorously. She'd never appreciated shopping so much in her life as she did in that moment.

...

"The gun was a match?" Jack asked. Sherry nodded. The evidence was damning right now, and Sherry needed to find Emily Charlton.

"Her gun was a match to the bullets found in David," she clarified. "It had been fired recently. We think she killed David, went home to change and leave the gun, and then bolted."

It meant that old man was wrong and hadn't heard the door open and close, but it would have been in the middle of the night after all. If he had been asleep, how would he have heard the door?

"Why leave the gun, though? Why not take it with her?" Jack asked, confused. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I'm still trying to figure that one out," Sherry admitted. "But it's an exact match, Jack. I had ballistics run it. That gun fired the bullet that killed David. If she's never killed anyone before, she could be in a mental state where she's not thinking right, and that's good for us because it means she is making mistakes. We'll find her easily enough."

"And the gun is definitely hers?"

"It's unregistered. She probably bought it from someone trying to get rid of it."

"You seem hesitant," Jack noted.

"It's just...something feels off about this," Sherry admitted.

"You're certain no one else was in Miranda Priestly's home when this happened?"

"There is no evidence at all out of the ordinary. We're checking out shoe prints outside, but Miranda did say she has gardeners and such there often. There were heel marks in the ground in the back yard, which suggest she ran out that way after it happened. It appears only Emily was there with David."

"Then you have to send out the alert."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. All signs point to her being the suspect, and we literally have the smoking gun. Send it out."

"All right," Sherry nodded. "I'll do it."

Sherry hit send on the alert for Emily Charlton as Jack left. She was going to be calling airports next to see if Emily had taken any flights. She hoped to find this woman and soon, but her gut was still saying something was not right about any of this.

...

Arthur was waiting outside the store for Emily to finish when he saw the TV in the window of the store across the street. Frowning, he went closer. Upon seeing Emily's picture next to the words "Wanted for the murder of David Stevenson," he panicked.

"Ugh, that was terrible," Emily complained, coming out of the store. "No sense of style in this place at all whatsoever."

"Come here," Arthur ordered, looking around. No one was paying attention to them, which was good.

"What?" she asked, going over to join him. He took off his ball cap and put it on her head, tugging it down.

"What are you doing?! That thing is hideous!" she cried, outraged. She went to take it off when he grabbed her hand.

"You are wanted for murder," he told her, pointing at the TV. Emily turned to see her face on there with the words beside it, and she gasped.

"What?! Are you kidding?"

"We both know you didn't do it, but if you're seen, someone will call it in," Arthur warned. "We gotta get you out of here."

Emily hurried to the drug store down the street then, and he followed.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

She ignored him as she found what she was looking for.

"Hair dye?" he asked, incredulous.

"I'm not wearing a stupid hat forever," she answered. "Go. Buy it."

Arthur did as he was told. Emily hovered by the door, keeping her hat low. They hurried to his truck, and Emily did her best to breathe.

"Why would they think you murdered him?" Arthur asked.

"Because I was the last person there," she answered. "But I mean, I could have been a victim too. This is an outrage!"

"All the more reason to stay low," he said. "We'll clear your name, I promise." He looked at her then, and she looked back at him. She had never put so much hope in someone before, but she had a lot of hope in Arthur right now. She needed that hope. Without it, her life was going to go for a shit fast.

"Okay," she said. He nodded and pulled the truck out onto the road. He had to give her credit. Most people would have been more upset. He peeked at her as he drove. There was something about Emily that he couldn't put his finger on, but he could tell there was more to her than just someone who worked in the fashion industry.

...

The hitman smiled to himself when he saw the news in the coffee shop. They had bought it. He would never be suspected. He adjusted himself and sipped his coffee. The street was loud as he walked out. He had gone looking for Ms. Charlton after he'd cleaned up any extra evidence from the hit (he knew where she lived after all), and he wasn't surprised to find her not home. He'd gone inside a different way to avoid being seen in the building. He'd climbed up the side of the building and went in through the open window. He'd placed the gun in her nightstand, knowing that if anyone knew she was the last person to see David alive, they'd check her place. All heat was off of him, and it would only be a matter of time before she was picked up by police. Then he'd go pay her a visit. The only question he had left was: who was the guy that had been in that house with them?

* * *

**And just FYI, Sherry and Jack are of my creation and are not a part of The Mechanic or The Devil Wears Prada. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

Emily looked at herself in the mirror and hated what she saw. It wasn't just the usual things she hated either. No, this was new.

"What are you doing?" she asked herself.

_Staying safe_, her brain answered. _That's what._

She sighed to herself and headed out of the bathroom. She had already put away the clothes she had bought. She hated them too. She was not the sweatshirt kind of girl, not like she used to be. She stood and looked out the window at the lake, thinking about her past. She had been very different as a teenager, more of a tom boy if anything. The major flip from that to who she was now had startled her parents. Emily hated being an only child. She wished she had a brother so that her father didn't have to spend so much time treating her like the son he'd never had.

Clattering in the other room brought her attention back. She thought about Arthur then. She wondered about him and where he was from. She briefly wondered if she had gone mad coming here, but she knew he was right. She would not last very long on her own. She was grateful that he offered her a safe place to stay. She still felt a little strange, though, at how easily she trusted him.

She walked out of her room to join him. When he saw her, he started to laugh. He couldn't help it.

"What is so funny?" she demanded, crossing her arms tightly.

"I just...blonde? Really?" he asked.

"Did you think I'd dye it grey?" she countered.

"Black maybe," he replied. "Dark brown. Not blonde. It...it just doesn't suit you. Not really. I mean, it's okay..." He stopped talking, knowing he was digging himself a deeper hole by the second.

"I'm going for a disguise, so clearly it's working," she huffed.

"Fair enough," he commented. He went back to cleaning his guns. Emily hovered behind him, observing. Arthur turned to look at her after a few moments.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered. The urge to pick one up and feel how cold and heavy it was surprised her.

"I have to go meet someone," he said. "Will you be all right here by yourself?"

"I think I can manage," she answered. "You're pretty off the grid here."

"The hair will throw him off even if he does find you," he smirked. "You might get a ten second head start."

"Oh ha ha," she said sarcastically, but she knew he was teasing her. She liked that he felt he could tease her so soon in their relationship, if that's what this even was. Was it considered a relationship when you lived with someone you didn't know but had rescued you?

"Won't the police search for me at the airport to see if I flew somewhere?" she asked then, realizing.

"That's why we went to Baton Rouge and not New Orleans," Arthur answered. "You think I'd do a direct flight to where I live?"

"Oh. Of course not," she said. "But then again, won't they just use facial recognition or whatever to find me?"

"It was night, and I was parked where there weren't any cameras."

"And they won't find you?"

"I used a fake passport," Arthur said, tapping his head. "And we got on the flight separately, remember? It's not my first time, Emily."

"Right," she nodded. "I'm just feeling a little paranoid suddenly."

"It's all right," he said. "If they figure it out, then they're one hell of a good cop."

"Here's hoping I have a lousy cop on my tail," Emily laughed half-heartedly.

"Gun's here in case," he said after a moment, tapping the hand gun on the counter.

"What makes you think I know how to use it?" she asked.

"Do you?" he challenged.

She gave him an even stare, which he returned. The truth was close on her lips, but she held it back for some reason.

"Just show me," she said.

"Safety is here," he told her, showing her. "The rest is self explanatory. Aim and pull the trigger."

"Thanks," she nodded. She watched him get ready to leave, wondering who he was going to meet.

"Don't snoop while I'm gone," he ordered, giving her a warning look.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied with an innocent smile. He looked wary as he left, but soon she was all alone.

...

Miranda couldn't believe it. Emily had killed David? Why? What the hell happened that night? She was sitting across from Detective Sherry, who was telling her about the gun they'd found in Emily's apartment and how it matched the blah blah blah. Miranda was lost in the specifics. She was stuck on the fact that Emily had killed her husband. Now she was on the run. None of it made sense, but the more she thought about it, the more it did make sense. What had happened to possess Emily to kill David? And why had she never thought Emily was capable of killing someone? She'd certainly threatened it under her breath a lot towards Miranda's other assistants that had come and gone in the past few years. Maybe she was a violent person under that make up and clothing.

"Mrs. Priestly?" Sherry asked, snapping her finger to bring Miranda back.

"Yes?"

"Are your daughters somewhere safe?"

"Yes."

"Can you join them?"

"Why? Do you think Emily is going to come back and kill me and my girls too?" Miranda asked. A flicker of fear went through her, but she dismissed it. Miranda did not do fear.

"We just want you all to be safe," Sherry said, acting vague. Miranda also didn't do vague.

"I will not hide," Miranda said stiffly.

"It's not hiding..."

"Thank you, Detective, for your time," Miranda cut her off, standing up. "Call me if you have any updates."

"O-Okay."

Sherry watched the woman stalk off with her head held high. She didn't know whether Miranda was being brave or incredibly stupid.

...

"My father would have hated this place," Steve commented, looking around. Arthur was watching him carefully. The guy looked exhausted. Arthur knew he was drinking and smoking himself to death too. The way he ate the food on his plate showed that he didn't eat often. Arthur knew it was grief from losing his father, even if they didn't have a good relationship. The guilt in Arthur's stomach was gnawing at him every time he was around Steve, but he couldn't tell him the truth. The truth was too difficult.

_There's no one else I'd rather have do this...but you have to live with it._

Harry's last words were always seconds away from haunting him.

"That he did," Arthur said to Steve, coming back to the present and shaking Harry out of his head.

"Have you thought about what I said? About wanting to do what you do?" Steve asked, shoveling more food into his mouth.

"I have," Arthur agreed.

"And?"

"And when the time is right, I will."

"And when will that be?" Steve asked, growing frustrated.

"Soon," Arthur promised. He knew he wouldn't be able to kill the mechanic who had killed David because he did not want to risk being recognized in case he had been properly seen. He knew Dean was hunting like a dog for the guy. It wouldn't be long.

"So you come out all this way to tell me 'soon,'" Steve noted. "You couldn't just call me on the phone?"

"I wanted to make sure you weren't going to go looking for carjackers to shoot again," Arthur replied. He had stopped Steve from killing one recently. He didn't put it past Steve to try it again since he was convinced that was who murdered his father. It was the story Dean had concocted to cover up Harry's death, and it was working.

"I won't," Steve said rather defensively.

"Good."

They sat in silence for a bit while Steve finished eating and Arthur sipped his coffee.

"Wanna hit up some chicks?" Steve asked when he was done. He wiped his face with the napkin.

Arthur briefly thought of Sarah, but he released the thought immediately. He wasn't one to get close to someone, not like that. When his mind flickered over to Emily, though, he felt surprised. Why was he thinking of her and what she was doing at his place?

"I'm good," he said.

"Suit yourself," Steve shrugged, getting up and throwing down some bills for the meal. Then he was gone. Arthur sat for a moment longer, thinking. He wondered how long it took for Emily to start snooping through his stuff.

...

Ten minutes after Arthur had left, Emily found his bedroom and had a look around. She couldn't help herself. She noticed he had no pictures on the walls and no pictures of family or friends anywhere. She wondered why. The room was pretty bare and uninteresting. She went back out to where the record player was and touched it fondly. Her grandfather had one of those. She remembered him playing music for her. As she ran her hands along the shelf, she found a switch. Curious, she flicked it with her finger. She jumped back as the wall moved, revealing a hidden section. She stared, trying to figure out what she was looking at. She stepped closer, spying a photo of herself on the wall along with Miranda, David, and the twins. She realized she had found his homework wall, the place where he gathered all his intel and made his plan. She read what he was going to do to David, and she had to admit, it definitely would have looked like an accident. She kept going through his notes and observations, feeling odd inside at Arthur's thoughts about her on paper. After a while, she put the hidden wall back and went outside to the garage. She stood looking at the classic car parked there and felt her fingers itch to play with it. She had helped her father work on cars as a child. She remembered handing him tools to his outstretched hand from underneath whatever car he was working on. She heard the boat motor then, and she stepped away from the car, remembering his rule. She walked down to the dock to find Arthur tying the boat up.

"Well?" she asked, making him look at her. She wondered if he had gone on a date. She had an inkling he must be seeing someone.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" he asked. She frowned. What? For a moment, she took him seriously. Then she realized he was making a joke about her hair again.

"Did anyone ever tell you how you're not funny?" she countered.

"It was a little funny," he insisted, walking past her. He wondered how much she had found and looked through since he had been gone.

"Not really," she said, following behind him.

Arthur knew he had to give it a rest with the hair jokes. He didn't want to hurt her feelings. He sensed she wanted to know who he had gone to see, and he was intrigued by the fact that she wanted to know.

"It was just my new trainee," he said after a moment. "That I went to see."

"Oh," she nodded. He looked at her, wondering if it bothered her to think of him seeing a woman. That was also intriguing to him since they just met after all. Then again, he'd had the one night stand with Sarah.

"You'll meet him soon enough," Arthur told her. He went to shower then, leaving her alone. He needed a place to release the guilt and bad feelings for what he'd done to Harry, and there was no better place to do it than in the shower.

...

Sherry was still having doubts about Emily being the killer. She kept looking at Emily's photo and just couldn't see it. The woman was barely 100 pounds soaking wet, and David was a tall, bulky man. How had she pulled it off? It had looked like David had taken a bit of a beating before he died too. How had she managed that?

"Problem?" Jack asked, stopping by her desk.

"Something doesn't add up," she said.

"What doesn't add up? You found the gun in her apartment, and she's on the lam. I think that spells g-u-i-l-t-y to me."

Sherry didn't say anything else, and Jack eventually patted her shoulder and left. She wondered where Emily was and what she was doing or thinking. She wondered if she was going to find this woman and get justice for David or if she was going to find out something else entirely. Then her phone rang.

"This is Sherry," she said, answering.

"We got someone saying a woman matching Emily's description was on a flight to Louisiana."

"Where specifically?"

"Baton Rouge."

"Thank you," Sherry said, hanging up. Why would Emily go there? It seemed too close to home. Why not go someplace abroad? This whole thing was just getting more and more confusing.

...

"That doesn't go there," Arthur pointed out. Emily's hand hovered as she looked at him.

"What do you mean? I saw you put it there earlier. Are you messing with me?"

"It's permanent home is over there," Arthur gestured. He couldn't show her himself because his hands were in the sink. He pointed with his foot. She stared at him.

"Well, why put it there when it's home is over...here, is it?" she asked, trying to follow his foot. She set the cutting board down and held her hands up mockingly as she backed away from it.

"I put it there because I wasn't done with it earlier. I have a place for everything," Arthur said simply. "It's how you stay organized."

"So it would drive you insane if I put it in the wrong spot," Emily noted. "You'd probably get up in the middle of the night to put it back, right?"

"I wouldn't wait that long," he scoffed.

"So you would hurt my feelings," she commented.

"Why would your feelings be hurt if I put something back where it belonged?" he asked, confused.

"You really haven't dated much, have you?" she questioned, tilting her head at him.

"What's that got to do with putting dishes in their proper place?" he countered.

"Well, if your girlfriend did it wrong, would you want her to feel bad or just fix it later when she's gone to avoid hurting her feelings?"

"I'd tell her where it went to start with to avoid that entire scenario," Arthur said, bemused.

"It's like beating my head on a wall," Emily muttered with a sigh.

"Let me guess, you just throw everything together in a drawer or cupboard and make it work?" he asked, continuing washing the dishes. Emily leaned against the counter, waiting for one to dry.

"My utensil drawer would make you cry," she said, pointing a finger at him. "It would give you nightmares."

"How could you even screw up utensils?" he asked, incredulous.

"I don't have one of these fancy things," she said, picking up the utensil organizer from the drawer a little bit before dropping it back down. Arthur stared at her, horrified.

"What?!"

"They all just mix together in one, big mess," she went on, moving a little closer to him. He was still staring at her. "Soup ladles and tongs too. You name it. All together happily ever after."

"You're disgusting," he said.

"Why am I disgusting when I think being organized right down to where your elastic bands are kept is disgusting?"

She could see the smile playing on his lips, but he was careful at not letting it out often. She figured he just liked to be grumpy all the time. He reached with his soapy hand and pushed her back by her face.

"Agh!" she spluttered, wiping at her eyes and cheeks.

"Don't invade my personal space," he told her. She had been standing too close to him, and he didn't know what to make of how that made him feel. It was better to keep a distance.

"Do you want help? Cos I'll go on strike," she warned, waving the dish towel at him.

"Go ahead. I'll know where to find everything at least."

"Ugh, you're so annoying," she said, dropping the towel on the counter and stalking off. When she was gone, he finally smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

**A Few Days Later**

Emily tiptoed around Arthur's house that morning, trying not to wake him. She liked to go out and watch the sun rise. She was more of a morning person anyway. It appeared that Arthur was up late into the night. She had seen him taking down the photos and intel on David through the crack of her door when he thought she was sleeping. He was putting up new photos, and she wondered who his next target was. She sat on the end of the dock and hugged her knees, watching the sun go up slowly. She never got this opportunity in New York. This place was growing on her even if Arthur annoyed her at times.

...

Arthur was going to tell her today that he'd found the man who killed David. Dean had given him the news two days before, and he had started setting up his board with new photos and intelligence. Arthur almost felt a little disturbed that Burke, the other mechanic, was in the same town as he was. Had he followed them there? Did he know Emily was with Arthur? He didn't think so since he had been following the man for two days, and Burke seemed pretty oblivious. It all could just purely be a coincidence.

Arthur looked out the window at Emily sitting on the dock. He knew she got up early. He got up early himself, but he just never let her know that. She seemed to like her space and quiet time, and he'd give her that. Sometimes, he envied that peaceful look on her face.

"I think a storm is coming," she said, coming in when her sun disappeared behind clouds. There had been a good wind picking up too.

"Probably," Arthur replied absently. He was thinking about Burke and whether or not Steve would be up for the challenge. Burke was a big man.

Emily wanted to ask him about the new target, but she didn't want him to know she had been spying on him. She poured herself a coffee and sat across from him instead, watching him think. She knew she was still wanted for murder. She had seen it on the news again the night before. There was something unnerving about the whole world looking for her for something she didn't do. She hoped it would get resolved soon, but a part of her worried she'd be on the run forever.

...

The funeral had been fair size. Most people came because it was Miranda Priestly, and you bloody well attended something that was close to Miranda Priestly. Even Andrea Sachs was in the crowd, although she didn't know why she bothered. It was more out of doing the right thing really.

"So sorry for your loss," Nigel said to her, patting her arm. Miranda just nodded. She didn't know what to say to these people anyway.

"Please don't remarry, Mum," Caroline said to her now. "How many signs do you need that marriage just isn't for you?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that at my husband's funeral," Miranda said frostily. Caroline pressed her lips together and went back to stand next to her sister, Cassidy. Miranda held her head up high. She did not do pity, and she wasn't about to start now.

...

"Her family is in Vermont," Sherry was saying. "Why would she go to Louisiana?"

"Maybe she flew there and rented a car?" Jack suggested. They were having a meeting about Emily Charlton.

"I don't have any car rental places telling me she came in there."

"Maybe she altered her appearance?"

"I don't know, Jack. I'm not sure what to do."

"You can go there and check it out if you'd like," Jack suggested.

"Louisiana police is doing everything they can to locate her. I'm needed here. I have to keep finding more clues."

"All right. She might be in the wind by now, just saying."

Sherry didn't answer. She knew that was a big possibility. She just hoped she was wrong about everything, that Emily was innocent and could come home. Then again, people could surprise you.

...

Emily found herself thinking about her father a lot recently. She hadn't been in touch with her mother lately because it was hard to listen to her mother cry over her father's death. Her mother had moved from England to Vermont after her father died because her mother claimed she wanted to be closer to Emily but not too close. Emily did have an aunt who lived in Vermont as well, so at least her mother had someone close by to cry to.

She flinched as lightning streaked across the sky, lighting up the house. Thunder smashed right behind it, shaking the walls. Emily clenched her fingers into the palms of her hands, her nails digging into the skin. She'd never liked storms. This one seemed awfully close for comfort. She looked to see Arthur standing by the windows and looking out at the water. It didn't appear to bother him at all apparently.

"You're not supposed to stand right by the window during a storm," she said.

"Says who?" Arthur asked, looking at her.

"The professionals," she answered. He snorted.

"Am I making you nervous?" he questioned as another bolt of lightning flashed and Emily ducked, even though she was inside.

"A little," she admitted.

"So, you'd freak if I did this then," he said, opening the sliding door and stepping out. It wasn't raining yet at least.

"Arthur!" she shrieked, jumping to her feet. She was torn between rushing to drag his ass back inside or staying safe inside. That panic and anxiety from when she was a child stuck outside in a storm was rapidly returning. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"All right, all right," Arthur said, coming back inside and shutting the door behind him. "Safe and sound. Happy now?"

Emily couldn't find her voice. She was starting to have a full blown panic attack, she could feel it.

"Hey, Emily?" he said, sounding concerned. He went over to her as she put a hand over her chest. "What's wrong?"

She just shook her head hard, unable to speak still. It took Arthur a moment to recognize what was happening to her.

"Geez, are you having a panic attack?" he asked. She nodded. Her breath came back then, but it was shaky and a bit tearful, which embarrassed the hell out of her. All she could see was her child self curled in a fetal position in the grass waiting to die from the lightning.

He went to close the curtains, and then he turned on the lights. She was still struggling, and then she surprised him by crawling underneath the table and hugging her knees tightly to her chest. He felt really unsure of what to do now. He bent to look under the table and saw she was wiping at her eyes viciously.

"Do you want a water or something?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. She knew she looked like an idiot, but this was how her father had helped her with storms. They had sat under the kitchen table together until it had passed. When she got older, she didn't have to do it at all. For some reason, she acted upon instinct today and fell back on her fail safe.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said.

"It's fine."

"I take it you've had a bad experience with storms?"

"Uh huh."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Emily looked at him finally. Was he serious?

"Why do you care?" she asked.

"I'm just trying to help," he shrugged. "You don't have to tell me."

Emily felt good enough to at least emerge from under the table. She got to her feet and brushed herself off. She held her head high, trying to keep any dignity she had left.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much," she answered as she sat down on the chair again. She knew she could probably tell him what had happened to her. It had been her own fault, really. She'd been playing hide and seek with her father and hid so well that he couldn't find her. Then a storm came, and she had been stuck outside until her screaming got her father's attention.

"I found him," Arthur said after a moment, figuring this would take her mind off of what had just happened. Emily looked at him curiously.

"Found who?"

"The man who killed David."

"Who is he?" she asked, sitting straighter in her chair.

"Goes by Burke," he answered. He slid the man's photo over to her to look at. Emily didn't know a hundred percent if this man was the killer. He'd been wearing a ski mask after all. They were about the same height, though. If Arthur said it was him, then it had to be him.

"Are you going to take him out?" Emily asked.

"No," Arthur answered. She gave him a surprised look.

"What do you mean? Then why are you setting up..." she stopped short, remembering he didn't know she had seen his wall.

"Setting up what?" he asked. Her squirming in her chair proved what he already knew, that she had looked at his secret wall.

"I saw you last night putting up photos on the wall," she said. "I didn't know if you wanted me to know about it, so I didn't say anything."

Arthur examined her carefully. Had she really only seen it last night? He wasn't sure now.

"Okay, so who is going to do it then?" she asked, trying to get the heat off of her.

"My new trainee."

"Is he ready?"

"I'm not done training him, so not yet."

"Why not you?"

"Because he knows what I look like," he replied. "He saw me at the house there with you."

"Right."

Emily didn't say anything further. She hoped he wasn't miffed that she had seen his workspace.

"He's going to be joining us soon," Arthur added. "My trainee. Steve." Steve had let him know that Harry's place was getting ready to be sold.

"Oh. Okay."

Emily wondered who this guy was. She hoped he was as decent as Arthur seemed to be. He hadn't made fun of her at all during her little stunt she'd just done, which said a lot.

"Question," she said after a moment. "How is killing Burke going to clear my name?"

"Let me deal with that," Arthur answered. Part of his plan was getting a confession out of Burke, but it had to be done delicately and discreetly. It was a work in progress.

"Okay," Emily nodded. Again, she trusted him.

**A Week Later**

Steve looked up when Arthur came into the diner.

"Is it time?" he asked.

"Come with me," Arthur gestured. Steve got up and followed him out to his truck. They went to a building together, and Steve slowed his steps by the door.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"An animal shelter," Arthur answered.

"Um, why?"

"Because you're going to adopt a dog," Arthur replied. Steve felt confused as he went in behind Arthur. What did he need a dog for? They walked until they found a Chihuahua looking mournfully up at them.

"You're not serious?" Steve asked, feeling a laugh building. When Arthur turned to give him a look, he knew he was serious.

"There's a good boy," Arthur said to the dog as he knelt down in front of it. The dog licked his fingers through the cage.

"He likes you," the staff woman said, smiling.

"He'll do," Arthur smiled back at her.

"I can barely take care of myself. How am I supposed to take care of a dog?" Steve hissed as they followed the woman, who was now holding the dog.

"You'll figure it out," Arthur promised. They were done and out of there in no time, and Arthur dropped Steve off at Harry's place again.

"Now what?"

"Walk it, feed it, love it. Make it your best friend," Arthur said. "Go to Fisher Square and sit at the coffee shop in Riverdale. Have a black coffee, sit at the table by the window, and do the Suduko puzzle in the paper."

"How long do I sit there?"

"One hour."

"Every day?" Steve asked.

"Every day for three weeks."

"Oye. Okay," he sighed. Arthur gave him a look.

"You want to do this or not?" he asked.

"Oh, is this the 'soon' you were talking about?"

"Do what I told you, and we'll talk soon."

Steve gave a disgruntled sigh, picked up the dog, and got out of the truck.

...

"No leads," Sherry said, disgusted. She slapped down the file hard onto her desk. "It's been almost two weeks, and I've got nothing. This woman is a ghost."

"Nothing new from Miranda or her house?" Jack asked.

"Nothing. I don't know what else to do, Jack."

"Louisiana police haven't had anything for you?"

"No, nothing."

"Well..."

"Do NOT say this is a cold case," Sherry warned. "It's not. Not yet."

"Okay," Jack said, holding his hands up.

"Maybe I should go to Louisiana and check things out for myself," Sherry mused.

"Up to you. Wouldn't hurt."

Sherry nodded. She'd be packed up and out of there soon. If she didn't find anything there, then she would have to give up on this case.

...

Emily noticed Arthur had been gone every day of the week. She knew he was casing his new target. She almost felt weird knowing he was hunting prey to kill. Well, he wasn't going to do it himself, but still. She didn't ask, and he didn't tell. They seemed to get along okay aside from a few quirks here and there. Arthur definitely had some issues, especially control issues. Emily could relate.

She was enjoying her swim. The water was refreshing. She had checked with Arthur that there weren't going to be any alligators sneaking up on her, and he assured her she was all right. She still kept an eye out, though, just in case. She heard his boat coming, and she had the sudden urge to be prankish. She went underneath the dock, waiting and listening.

Arthur noticed her towel was on the dock, but he didn't see her in the water. He frowned to himself. Had she drowned? Was she just inside? He felt some concern. He got out and tied his boat up, listening. There was nothing.

"Emily?" he called. He hurried to check the house. "Emily!"

There was still nothing.

"Shit," Arthur said. Had Burke found him? Had he taken Emily? He went back outside. "EMILY!" He was feeling genuinely scared now. He had promised she'd be safe here. He was back on the dock now, searching the water. He kicked off his shoes and ripped off his shirt before jumping in. If she'd drowned, he had to find her.

Emily knew she had gone too far with this prank, and she felt bad. It didn't stop her from finishing it, though. As soon as Arthur hit the water, she swam out from under the dock and waited for the right moment before grabbing his ankles and yanking him down. She heard him shout before he went under and released him. He glared at her under the water as she smiled and went up to the surface. He was not long behind her.

"That," he said, pointing a finger at her, "was NOT funny."

"I'm sorry," she apologized. She was laughing, though.

"Do you realize I thought you'd been taken or drowned?" he demanded.

"It crossed my mind," she said. "But I was invested in my prank."

"Don't do that to me ever again," he ordered. "Or I might actually hurt you next time, and it might not be by accident."

"Oh, lighten up," she said, splashing water at him. He twisted his head away, glaring at her still.

"Lighten up," he repeated. "In my kind of work, there's no room for that."

"So you don't have any fun at all then?"

Arthur didn't answer her as he swam for the dock. Emily wasn't finished, however. She easily caught up to him and tried to dunk him under again, but he reacted quickly and pushed her off him.

"Knock it off," he growled.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "Come on, Arthur, don't be mad at me."

He hauled himself out of the water.

"Arty?"

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable.

"No? Art then," she said, teasing.

"Don't do that," he told her. "It's Arthur. Or Bishop. That's it."

"Is Bishop your middle name?"

"Last name. Pick one and leave it alone," he said, grabbing his shirt and shoes and walking towards the house. Emily pulled herself out and grabbed her towel, running after him.

"Hey," she said, catching up to him. "Come on, I really am sorry. I've just been so bored."

"What are you, a donkey?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Donkey's become mischievous when they're bored," he explained.

"Well, then I'm an ass," Emily agreed, putting her hands on her hips. Arthur couldn't stop the snort of laughter from exiting his mouth in time, which took him by surprise. She started to laugh as well.

"I knew you had it in you," she commented. She tilted her head at him. "Forgive me?"

Arthur looked at her, taking her in. She'd worn her red bikini that day. He noticed a scar on her right side, which made him curious. It looked like it was from a blade. He knew that because he had some of those scars himself.

"How did that happen?" he asked, gesturing. He couldn't help himself. Emily looked down at the scar he was referring to.

"Oh, that," she said. "Just a stupid thing that happened as a teenager."

"And you got stabbed for it?" he questioned. She met his eyes. Of course he'd know it was a stab wound. She should have known better.

"You could say that," she nodded. She continued on inside, and he saw the tattoo on her lower back. It surprised him a lot, but he knew better than to say anything in that moment.

"Yes," he said before she went inside. She turned to face him.

"Yes, what?"

"You're forgiven," he answered.

"Good," she said. She fingered her scar absently then. "Cos you don't want to see the other guy." She gave him a smirk-like smile as she disappeared inside. Arthur stood there feeling both shocked and suddenly attracted to her. He had a strong feeling that there was more to Emily than he was seeing, and he very much wanted to find out more about it.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter has a scene that could be triggering.**

* * *

Sherry was not getting anywhere with her investigation in Louisiana. She had no leads, and no one seemed to have seen Emily Charlton anywhere. She even branched out farther than Baton Rouge, but no one had anything for her.

"Maybe it's time to come home?" Jack suggested over the phone after she was there for a week.

"Not yet," she answered. "I'm going to go to Vermont and speak with her mother."

"Okay."

Sherry figured a daughter usually reached out to their mother when they were in trouble. Perhaps she'd pick up a lead there.

...

Emily noticed a difference in Arthur after that day she pranked him. He almost had a type of respect for her, and she knew it had something to do with the knife wound in her side. She'd tell him about it one day. There would be a moment, and when it came, she'd know.

"Sleep well?" he asked that morning as she came out.

"Yes," she answered. He always asked her, which she found kind of sweet. It was nice to know he was concerned for her well being.

"Steve is coming out today," he told her.

"Steve?"

"My trainee."

"Oh, right." She had easily forgotten it. She had a lot on her mind.

"He's going to stay in the room next to yours. Is that all right?"

"Is he a pervert?" she countered. She hoped not.

"I don't think so," Arthur said. "But I don't know him that well."

"Great," she said sarcastically. "So I'm going to be sleeping beside a guy who may or may not be a pervert."

This concerned Arthur for a moment, but her smile assured him she was joking a little.

"I can take care of myself," she promised. "It's not the first time, and it won't be the last."

Arthur very much wanted to hurt these men who seemed to think it was okay to advance on women like that, especially the men who advanced on Emily. He found himself very protective of her since the day he met her, and it only got stronger as the days went on. It was a complete mystery to him why he felt that way.

...

Miranda wondered if that police officer ever found Emily. She certainly hadn't heard anything about Emily through her circles. It seemed the woman had vanished. This made Miranda suspicious that Emily had indeed killed David after all. Why disappear if you were innocent? She wanted justice. She hoped Emily would be found and soon.

...

Steve took in the blonde woman standing in Arthur's living room and instantly knew he wanted her. He looked at Arthur warily. Was she his girlfriend? He knew better than to advance if she was.

"This is Emily," Arthur gestured. "Emily, Steve."

"Hello," Emily said. She didn't like the way Steve was looking at her.

"Hi," Steve said.

"She's staying here for now. Don't ask questions," Arthur ordered. Steve gave him a surprised look.

"What is she, a fugitive?"

"None of your business."

"All right," Steve said, holding his one hand up. The other was holding the stupid dog. Steve was ready to get rid of the dog. It was annoying and loud and constantly wanting attention.

"And yes, she knows what I do," Arthur said finally.

"And what is that?" Steve asked, acting confused.

"A hitman," Emily answered. "And you're his trainee."

"Oh, right," Steve said, nodding.

"Down here," Arthur said, leading him to his room. Steve was pleased to see it was next to Emily's. He could tell from the look of the room they walked past.

"Thanks, amigo," Steve said, moving to go inside when Arthur grabbed his elbow in a vice grip.

"No funny business," he growled. "I mean it. You leave her alone."

"Okay, okay," Steve agreed. Arthur let him go, and Steve rubbed his elbow. It made him happy to hear that Emily was not Arthur's girlfriend. That meant she was fair game.

...

"So, seriously, are you on the run or something?" Steve asked Emily later that afternoon. She was leaning against the deck railing in jeans and a white tank top. He was smoking.

"I don't want to talk about it," she answered.

"You are!" he crowed. "From what?"

"Please just drop it," she ordered. She didn't like Steve. He gave her a bad vibe.

"Let me guess, shoplifting," Steve teased. "Bank robbery?"

Emily walked away from him then and found Arthur in his garage working on the car. He looked up at her as she came in.

"What?" he asked.

"Your friend is annoying the hell out of me," she answered. "And here I thought only you could annoy me that much."

"He's not my friend," Arthur said, going back to work. "And thanks a lot. Glad you're honest."

"He makes me feel uncomfortable, like he's undressing me with his eyes all the time," she went on, ignoring him. Arthur stopped what he was doing, feeling a little bit guilty. He'd done that himself once or twice in the past week, ever since he'd seen that tattoo on her lower back.

"Well, punch him in the face then and be done with it," he instructed. "Maybe that'll make him back off."

"It's my experience that when a woman gets physical, it just turns men on even more," she argued.

"Look at you being intuitive about men," Arthur commented.

"Unbelievable," Emily huffed, crossing her arms. "Are you just like Steve?"

"Whoa, hey, don't compare a stallion to a pony," he replied. "I'm nothing like Steve."

"Really," Emily said, bending so that her face was in front of his. "So you've never thought of me in that way at all since I've been here?"

"And you haven't?" he challenged. She flushed then, and he felt surprised that his bluff had been right.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said, clearing her throat.

"Have I once harassed you or pushed myself onto you?" he asked. She went to move away when he caught her arm, leaving a grease mark on it.

"Have I?" he pressed.

"No," she answered. "You have not."

"I'm not like Steve," Arthur said again, more firmly this time.

"Okay," she nodded. He released her and went back to work on his car. She turned and went back into the house where she did her best to avoid Steve for the rest of the day.

...

Emily noticed herself thinking about Arthur and their conversation in the garage over the next few days. Steve went to do his thing with the dog every day, and when they were alone together, Emily caught herself feeling awkward around Arthur now. He had been right after all. She did think of him that way a few times since she'd been there. She had been outside when she decided to go grab something to read. She entered the house to hear a noise coming from the bathroom. She froze, unsure of what to do. The noise could be described as a strangled cry, but what could Arthur be upset about?

She padded to the door, her hand hovering on the handle. She was supposed to be outside, that was why he was in there doing that. He thought she couldn't hear him. She didn't want to invade his privacy, but she also wanted to help him feel better, even if he annoyed her.

"Arthur?" she said, opening the door. The shower was running, but she saw him sitting on the floor of it fully dressed, his head in his hands. He didn't respond.

"Are you okay?" she asked, moving closer.

"Get out," he said, his tone a warning.

"Can I help?"

"I said, get out," he repeated. She ignored him because she knew he was like her, tough on the exterior but really wanting someone to talk to on the inside. She got into the shower and sat beside him.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," she told him then. He finally looked at her, and she could tell he was angry at her, but she didn't care.

"It's none of your business," he said strongly. Emily realized that this right here was her moment. She decided to go with it.

"If I tell you something about me, will you tell me?"

"No."

"I was out with this guy who was a friend of a friend one night," she started anyway. "They told me he was a decent guy, a nice guy. Not one hour into our date did he start trying to rape me, in my own car no less."

Arthur stilled at this. He was a little taken aback that she was sharing something like this with him.

"I fought him off, and he stabbed me," she said. "I fought him off again, and I left him abandoned in a field that was about an hour's walk away from a town."

Arthur wondered why she was telling him this. He didn't interrupt, though.

"I heard that he died from his wounds, that someone found him on the side of the road," Emily continued. "But you see, he was associated with a gang, and he had done some really terrible things to people, so they assumed that a member of an opposing gang had killed him. I never told anyone, and I still have that knife."

Emily went quiet then, and Arthur stared at her. He had not expected that kind of a story from her at all. Her expression was one of being far away until she turned to face him.

"That's where my scar came from," she finished. She had been lucky no one had found any DNA evidence of her on that guy, but then again, they weren't too concerned with his death. Like she'd said, he had done terrible things. The police were just glad he was off the streets.

"How old were you?" Arthur asked after a moment.

"Sixteen," she answered. "He was alive when I left him. I didn't think I'd stabbed him in places that would kill him...I just wanted him off of me. Then again, maybe someone else did come along and finished him off after I'd left. I'll never know."

"You live with it every day," Arthur noted.

"I do," she nodded. "And nightmares. He told me he was going to kill me after he'd raped me, though, so it really was me or him, but I didn't mean to kill him."

"Like you said, you don't know if you actually did," Arthur pointed out.

"Anyway," she said, moving on. "You don't have to tell me anything." She went to stand up when he pulled her back down. She gave him a surprised look.

"My first kill was when I was nine years old," Arthur said. Emily felt her jaw drop at this.

"What?"

"I was sold to a guy who raised child soldiers," Arthur went on. The sudden urge to tell her, to help her understand why he did what he did was prominent in his mind. "I managed to escape when I was about 15. I've been on my own ever since, but this kind of life is all I've ever known."

"I'm sorry," Emily whispered.

"It doesn't usually bother me, doing the kills," he said. "But Harry..." He stopped then, putting his fist into his mouth and biting on it.

"Who's Harry?" Emily asked.

"My mentor," Arthur answered. "My boss told me that Harry had betrayed five of our men, who were on a mission. Those men all got killed, and Harry sold them out. They wanted me to do the kill, otherwise they'd hire someone else. I did it, and Harry told me he wouldn't have wanted anyone else to do it, but he said I was going to live with it."

Emily waited for more because she knew it was coming.

"He was right," Arthur went on. "I live with it every day. It eats me alive to the point I just want to blow my own brains out, you know?"

"I'd rather you didn't do that," she said, giving him a half smile. "You've kind of grown on me."

Arthur gave a half laugh as he pressed his fingers into his eyes. They were both soaking wet sitting in the shower now.

"I trust this doesn't leave this room," he said. She nodded.

"Likewise," she replied.

He nodded as well.

"Well, look at us. Two broken people," she commented. He turned his head to look at her, and she surprised him by kissing him softly on the lips briefly before getting up to leave and go change. Arthur didn't know what to think of it let alone what to do about it. His mind was still reeling from her story. He had been right, though. There was more to Emily than he'd originally thought.

...

Emily wasn't entirely sure what had possessed her to kiss Arthur earlier. She blamed it on the moment they'd had together. It had felt pretty intimate to her. She wondered if he agreed. She was sitting on the deck watching the sun set that evening when Steve ambled out to join her. She groaned inwardly.

"Are you ever going to tell me your story?" he asked, sitting uncomfortably close to her.

"No," she answered.

"I'll tell you mine first."

This felt eerily similar to what she'd done with Arthur in the shower that day. Had he bugged the place?

"No thank you."

"My mother died when I was 12. I'm addicted to alcohol and pain killers, and I was a shit son to my father," Steve said. "Who, by the way, just got murdered by a carjacker over a month ago."

"I'm sorry," Emily said. She saw Arthur hovering by the door, watching them. She wondered what he was thinking. She wished he had followed her and finished that kiss earlier.

"So, your turn," Steve said.

"I'm good," Emily countered, getting up and heading back inside. She walked past Arthur, and she definitely noticed the tension between them now, but it was a good kind.

"Is he bothering you?" he asked her.

"I'm handling it," she answered, flashing him a smile.

Steve watched their exchange from outside, and he had a feeling he was too late, that Emily was into Arthur already. He tapped his fist on the railing, cursing to himself.

* * *

**I hope someone is still interested in this story.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Hello? Mrs. Charlton?" Sherry called, banging on the door louder. She was tired. The flight had been rough, and she hadn't been eating properly.

"What do you want?" a voice called back.

"I'm from the New York Police Department," Sherry said. "Detective Sherry Newman."

"NYPD? Way out here?" the voice said. "What for?"

"I'm looking for your daughter."

The little window beside the door slid open, and Sherry saw a face look through it. Mrs. Charlton, she presumed.

"My daughter? Emily?"

"Yes."

"Is she in trouble?"

"You could say so."

"Has something happened to her?"

"May I come in?" Sherry interrupted. "So as not to have this conversation in earshot of the public?" The neighbor next door was watching them and frowning. The door clicked and unlocked a few bolts before it swung open. A Caucasian, petite woman with greying, dark hair was standing there.

"Well come in then," she said. "And let me see your badge and identification."

"Sure," Sherry said, doing so as she came inside. Mrs. Charlton examined it thoroughly.

"So what's going on?" she asked when she was done. "Is Emily hurt?"

"No, no. I just need to find her to ask some questions about her boss's husband. You see, he was killed about two weeks ago, and your daughter was the only other person in the house when he died."

"You think she did it?!" Mrs. Charlton exclaimed. "Most certainly not! My daughter is not a murderer."

_They all say that,_ Sherry thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Ma'am, I'm trying to talk to her to rule her out as a suspect. Have you seen or spoken with her recently?"

"No. My daughter has nothing to do with me," Mrs. Charlton scoffed. "She hates me, you see. We never saw eye to eye."

"She was last seen heading to Louisiana. Do you know why she would go there?"

"No. She doesn't know anyone here except the people from her office in New York."

"I see."

"I'm sorry I can't be of much help."

Sherry knew this was a dead end, and she felt disappointed.

"Okay. Well, call me if you do hear from her, okay? She might be in danger," Sherry added as she stepped back outside. That one usually helped people to feel motivated to call.

"Bye now," Mrs. Charlton said, taking Sherry's card off of her and closing the door in her face.

It was back to square one.

...

Emily did not swim when Steve was around. She knew he'd gawk and make comments, and she didn't want them. She also did her best to not be alone in a room with him. It didn't seem to matter if Arthur told him to leave her alone. It made him try even harder. Steve was sitting on the couch now, drinking.

"All right," Arthur said as he headed for the door. "Let's go."

Steve was on his feet instantly. He bounced in anticipation as he followed Arthur.

"Go where?" he asked.

"Target practice," Arthur answered. Steve deflated a little. He had hoped they were going on a mission.

"All right," he sighed. He followed Arthur out back to the field where the targets were set up. He picked his gun, and he started firing once his headphones and glasses were on. Arthur followed suit.

"Not bad," he commented to Steve after a while. Steve grinned wickedly.

"I was born to do this," he stated. Arthur just shook his head, but there was a small smile on his lips. After an hour or so, Emily came sauntering down to them.

"Wanna play?" Steve asked coyly. Arthur cringed inside. The man just wouldn't give up.

Emily didn't answer him, but she did go and check out the guns on the makeshift table. Arthur watched her pick up a pistol and examine it. He noticed she had a familiarity about her when she looked at the gun, just like she had the time he'd left her alone near the beginning when she'd first arrived.

"I can show you how to load it," Steve offered. Emily looked at him then, and without looking at the gun, she loaded it.

"I've got it, thanks," she replied. Arthur had to admit he was surprised to see her load a gun so easily. He had not taken her for a gun type of person.

"Show us what you got," Steve smirked. Emily faced the targets and threw her arm forward, firing. She hit the target square in the middle on both shots, and then she fired another before moving to toss the gun behind her back and turning to grab it with her other arm and aiming and firing it while staring right at Steve. She hit the target dead center. She hoped he got the message that she meant business and to leave her alone.

"Holyyyy shit," Steve said, astonished. Arthur was staring now. His mind was racing. There was only one other person he knew who did that little trick with the pistol. Emily caught his stare, and she gave a shrug while setting the gun down and walking away.

"Did you see that?!" Steve asked him, incredulous.

"Yea," Arthur answered. "I saw it."

He removed his glasses and headphones and chased after her. He had to know.

"Hey!" he called, making her stop and turn around.

"What?" she asked.

"There's only one person I knew who could do what you just did," he said. "His name was Aaron Smith."

"How do you know him?" Emily asked.

"He was the hitman who originally trained me. He set me up with Harry McKenna..." Arthur trailed off. It seemed so long ago now. "How do you know Aaron?"

Emily didn't answer right away, her lips twisted together as she wondered what it all meant. It was almost like fate had put them together.

"Emily?" he prompted. He had to know. She drew in a breath and gave him the answer he wanted.

"He's my father."

**2005**

_"Where's Dad?" Emily asked. He wasn't answering her calls. She had flown home after her mother told her she hadn't spoken to Aaron either. _

_"If I knew that, we wouldn't be here," her mother answered roughly. Hattie was one tough mother, and Emily knew that if her mother was rattled, then something was seriously wrong. _

_"He went on a job," Hattie went on. "He didn't check in, and he's not answering me."_

_"You don't think..." Emily started, gripping at the chair she was standing in front of. _

_"It's possible," Hattie nodded. "It was a high risk job. I warned him not to take it."_

_Sudden banging on the door made them both jump._

_"Police!" the shout came. _

_Emily gave her mother a frightened look. Had they found out who Aaron really was? He did not use his real last name for his job._

_"Stay calm," Hattie said, giving her a stern look in return. She went to answer the door. "Yes?"_

_"Ma'am, we regret to inform you that your husband, Aaron Charlton, was found murdered this morning."_

_Hattie shrieked in agony. Emily broke down into sobs. She couldn't hear anything else the officers were saying. Her mind was fixated on one thing: she'd never see her father again._

_She'd give anything to see her father one last time. _

**Present **

Every time she thought of her father or spoke of him, that memory came to her mind. Always. Arthur stared at her, disbelieving. Emily knew he'd be shocked. She vaguely remembered seeing Arthur now that she thought of it. Her father had brought him home once. She remembered being attracted to him then just as much as she was now. She didn't think she'd ever see him again, though. Fate was funny that way.

"Aaron is your father," he repeated.

"Yes."

"He's dead."

"I know that too," she nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault unless you killed him," she said, looking at him.

"No, I didn't," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I heard he went after someone who knew he was coming."

"Yea. It was a set up. He was murdered. Some guy named Ronan."

Arthur was having a hard time with this coincidence. He was having a memory now of eating a meal with Aaron and catching his daughter peeking at him when she thought he wasn't looking. Emily sure had changed since then.

"That explains the tattoo," he said, realizing.

"Come again?" she asked. He moved in closer to her and slid his hand around to her lower back where the tattoo was. Emily was taken aback by this as well as the swell of feelings from his touch.

"The pistol with the daisies around it," he said, his face close to hers. "I saw it."

"Well, he was a hitman who is now pushing up daisies," she said. If she made it seem almost amusing, then she wouldn't burst into tears. It was her defense mechanism. "It's my reminder of him. That, and it was his favorite handgun, and daisies are my favorite flower."

Arthur didn't really know what to say to that. He could clearly see the hurt in her eyes from talking about Aaron. Hell, it hurt him too because next to Harry, Aaron was the next closest thing to a father figure.

"Yo! Are we continuing with this or what?" Steve called, interrupting.

"You better go," she said. "Before he shoots his own foot off or something."

"You put him to shame. I'm sure he hated that."

"It was for his own good," she snorted. "To tell him to back off."

Arthur released her then, his heart hammering in his chest. Emily made him feel things he hadn't thought possible. He had no idea what that meant.

"We'll talk later," he said.

"I'll be waiting," she nodded. He reluctantly went back down to join Steve.

"You hitting on my girl?" he asked Arthur.

"Your girl?" Arthur countered. "Seriously?"

"She knows she wants it."

"I very much doubt that."

Arthur put back on his headphones and glasses and picked up his rifle. He looked to see Emily disappear into the house. He was feeling a lot of anticipation for their talk later.

...

Sherry was sitting on the plane and thinking hard. Emily's father had been the notorious Aaron Smith, a hitman for hire who had a lot of kills behind him. He had been murdered back in 2005. A leak had given the police all the information on Aaron so they could put it together. Sherry couldn't help but wonder if Emily had learned a thing or two from her father before he died. It was the only piece of information that kept Sherry coming back to the idea that Emily had committed the murder of David Stevenson. When you lived with a father like that, you were bound to know something about killing people...right? She tapped her knees anxiously. Emily would know how to disappear like her father too. Her mother was clearly of no help. Sherry hated to think that this was going to be a cold case after all of this. Then, before she was told to turn off her phone, she finally received an email responding to her information request about David Stevenson, and her jaw dropped.

...

Emily was sitting out in the night air when she heard Arthur come up behind her. She turned her head to see him sit in the chair beside her. She wasn't sure where Steve was, which irked her. He was always just hanging around where she was it seemed. She didn't want him listening to them.

"He passed out," Arthur said, reading her mind.

"Okay," she nodded.

"So," he said. "Aaron is your father."

"Uh huh."

"I remember you now," Arthur went on. "From that dinner ten years ago."

"I've changed a lot," she said. He met her eyes with his.

"I know," he replied.

Emily was suddenly fantasizing about her and Arthur kissing ferociously, and she blinked. She wondered if he felt the same way.

"I was jealous of you," she said. "You got to spend more time with him."

"He always talked of you."

"He told us your name was Danny," she said, frowning. "Why?"

"To protect me I guess," Arthur shrugged. "I never asked."

"You had way more hair then," she teased. The corners of his lips tugged into a slow smile.

"I did," he agreed.

"It's why I trusted you I think," she said after a moment. "That night you saved me. It's like I just knew that I knew you."

Arthur was quiet. He knew deep down it's probably why he had been drawn to her. His unconscious memory remembered her before he did.

"Well," he said. "Now we're two broken people with a history."

Emily studied him for a moment.

"Indeed we are," she agreed finally. Arthur remembered her kiss from their last talk in the shower. He wondered about getting up and kissing her again, but he didn't know if it was a good idea. In the end, his decision was made for him.

"There you guys are," Steve said, joining them. His cigarette was hanging from his lips, and he had a bottle of beer in his hand. "I passed out for a bit there."

Neither Arthur nor Emily replied. They were too busy looking at each other.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherry wanted to vomit. She had spent her flight thinking about all the things she had read from David's file. She couldn't believe how such a man could exist, but then again, there were men like David out there. She just preferred not to think about them as she would never sleep knowing they were all running around being evil without anyone catching them.

She got home and tried to sleep, but images kept creeping in. By the time morning came, she was exhausted.

...

Emily came in from her run early that morning. She had switched from swimming to running because she was craving some kind of exercise. She used to run all the time back in New York.

She was out of breath as she approached Arthur's place. She could hear him in the garage working on his car. She decided to join him.

"Is it gonna run?" she asked as she got closer. She loved watching his smile grow on his face, just like it was right now at the sound of her voice.

"I think so," he answered.

"I used to help my Dad work on cars."

"Of course you did."

She stood, arms crossed, watching. Arthur's mind kept wandering, but he kept it in check. Getting close to her that way was a bad idea. He knew it was. It didn't mean that it still didn't cross his mind, though.

"You've got a little bit of something..." she started, licking her thumb and moving to wipe at his cheek.

Of course she was touching him. Arthur watched her carefully as she worked the grease off his skin. She never broke eye contact with him.

"All right, I'm off," Steve said, appearing then. He had the dog in his arms. He surveyed the two of them carefully.

"Have fun," Arthur replied, not looking at him. Emily didn't either.

"Yea," Steve said. He had no idea what he'd walked in on, but he didn't like the look of it. He didn't want Arthur to get the girl. Steve wanted to get the girl for once.

Once he was gone, Emily tilted her head at Arthur.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered. She began to walk towards the house then. Arthur let her go. He didn't trust himself to be alone with her right now.

...

Miranda was having difficulty sleeping in her own bed. She kept imagining David's murder every time she closed her eyes. She knew selling the house would help with that, but it was difficult to let go of. No one would want it anyway, not after hearing someone had been killed in it. Miranda had workers tirelessly to change all the flooring and paint and everything, but she could still sense it. She forced herself to get up after a while and get dressed. She had work. She had the girls. She couldn't just lay around and mope. Miranda had to keep going, and she knew she would. She had to.

...

Sherry barely slept from all the nightmares she had after reading all the horrible things David Stevenson had done. She sat at her desk like a zombie. Had Emily known this about David? Is that why she killed him? He would certainly get the attention of someone who would pay to have him taken out, Sherry knew that now. Her mind was racing and trying to put all the pieces together. Was Emily secretly a hitman like her father? No. She wouldn't have left the gun behind. No professional would make such a rookie mistake.

"Well?" Jack asked, stopping at her desk. "How was Louisiana?"

"Lousy," she replied. "Look, I'm beginning to think Emily didn't do this."

"Again?" Jack sighed. "What now?"

"Look at this," she said, showing him the email. Jack's face darkened when he was done.

"I can't say I'm sorry he's dead after reading that," he commented.

"I think he was a hit, and I think Emily was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Sherry explained.

"Okay, but how can you explain the gun in her apartment?"

"The hitman put it there to throw us off his trail."

"That's a bit of a stretch," Jack noted.

"Is it?" Sherry asked. The more she thought of it, the more it seemed to be the most likely case scenario.

"I think so, yes. I mean, do what you gotta do of course, but I'm telling you it's not going to be what you want it to be. Just promise me you will follow the evidence because that's what helps us solve these crimes at the end of the day. I know you want Emily to be innocent, and I do too, but we can't dismiss the glaringly obvious evidence."

When she didn't answer, he gave her a look before tapping her desk with his fingers and walking away. Sherry didn't care what he thought. Nothing had come back from the other shoe prints in the yard. Work boots were common, and all of Miranda's workers wore them. The heels had to be Emily's as Miranda did not own that specific pair (they'd checked). Why would Emily go out the back door? The front door was just as hidden from the street. Sherry's theory grew in her mind, and she was determined to prove it was right.

...

The day was uneventful. Emily was growing tired of hiding out. She missed working, and she missed being in the public. Steve had returned, and Arthur was busy training him again. Emily played with the dog a little because she could sense it needed some affection. She felt sorry for it, having to spend so much time with Steve.

"Very cute," Steve said, seeing her with the dog. Emily tensed, and the dog even gave a small growl. She didn't respond, and he just flashed her a grin before going off to shower. She was rubbing the dog's ears when Arthur came inside.

"Made a new friend, I see," he commented, washing his hands after looking at her briefly.

"I think so," she replied.

"He'll be going to a new home once his job is done," Arthur noted.

"Oh," she said. Of course. The dog whined a little at this.

Arthur didn't say anything else as he went to change. By the time he'd returned, she had put on his classical music. Her eyes dared him to be mad at her for touching his records. He wasn't, though, which surprised him.

"I don't suppose you like to dance," she said.

"No," he shook his head.

"That's too bad," she sighed. He very much wanted an excuse to hang onto her, but he couldn't allow himself to do it. He had his reasons. When he went to walk past her, though, she managed to get a hold of his arm and pull him into her.

"I think you can make an exception to the rule just once," she said, looking at him. His brain was yelling all sorts of things at him. Kiss her was one of them. One dance won't hurt was the other. Don't be an idiot was the next. And finally: You're going to get hurt. That thought came up the most.

"I can't," he said, pulling out of her grip. "I'm sorry." He turned away to avoid seeing her disappointment.

...

Arthur went for a walk. He needed to clear his head. Emily was consuming most of his thoughts, and he knew he couldn't have that. He knew it was a ridiculous rule to have for himself, but he didn't like being vulnerable. Being vulnerable was what got you killed. The odd time he was with a woman, it was just for the act, not because there was any attachment. With Emily, there was an undeniable attachment that would be involved, and it terrified him. The more he thought of it, the more he realized it wasn't just hurt to himself that he was avoiding. He didn't want to hurt her either, and that showed him just how much he really did care for her.

"You okay?" Steve asked, startling Arthur. He'd already approached his house without realizing it, that was how lost in his thoughts he was. Steve was smoking and leaning against the garage. Arthur had a suspicion that Steve had looked at his car and possibly touched it like he wasn't supposed to.

"I'm fine," Arthur answered.

Steve said nothing else as Arthur passed him. He could feel the tension between Arthur and Emily, and it really bothered him, but it seemed there wasn't anything he could do about it.

...

Evening came, and Emily busied herself with studying Arthur. She could tell he wanted to kiss her. She just knew. He was fighting it for whatever reason, though. Steve and Arthur worked on their target board until Steve finally grew too tired to work and went to bed. Emily watched Arthur for a bit more before she got up and went over to him, leaning against his board in front of him. She wasn't entirely sure what she was doing. She didn't know everything about Arthur, but she knew enough. Her teenage crush was topped by her adult one, and it was enough to cause her to do what she was doing now.

"You're in the way," he said, moving to pin something beside her head. He knew what she was doing. He worked to keep the shake from his hand at her closeness.

"Am I? I'm sorry," she said, not sorry at all. She kissed his cheek and slid a hand around his back, holding him close.

"I really don't think this is a good idea," he warned. Her close proximity to him was causing him to forget all his constant fears and thoughts, though. She had that calming affect on him, which he discovered he craved.

"I don't care," she whispered. Arthur wondered what he was doing. Their faces were very close together, and he reached to touch her cheek. She kissed him full on then, and he kissed her back. Who was he kidding? He had fallen for her whether he had wanted to or not. He pressed her into the wall when she gave a small gasp of pain.

"What? Did I hurt you?" he asked as he pulled back, concerned.

"Pin," she said, reaching behind her and wincing. "Make that three pins." She held them up for him to see with a small grin before tossing them.

"Oh sorry," he said, starting to laugh a little. He pulled her away from the board, knowing he'd have to re-pin what they'd knocked off later. That organized part of himself wanted to fix it now, but he knew better. They walked carefully to his room that was on the other side of the house, and he shut the door quietly behind them. They were instantly kissing again.

"Are you sure?" he asked her after a bit.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't," she answered. Arthur could hear the logical part of his brain telling him to walk away, to stop this. He didn't want to listen to it, though. Why couldn't he be allowed to have a good, proper relationship? Why did he think he didn't deserve it? Why was he so afraid?

"I wanted to do this with you ten years ago," she said as they kept kissing.

"I'm pretty sure your father would have murdered me if we had," he replied.

"Would this even be happening if I wasn't who I was?" she asked then, and he stopped.

"Yes," he answered. "I was into you since day one, but like I said, I'm not like Steve."

"Oh, please don't say his name," she groaned. "You'll kill the mood."

"Sorry."

She resumed kissing him, falling down on top of him on his bed.

...

"When did you find out what your father did?" Arthur asked. Emily was lying half on him, her arm across his chest and her face pressed into his neck.

"I was about ten."

"It didn't freak you out?"

"Not the way he explained it," she answered, sighing. "He told me the CIA gave him the orders. I knew at that age that they were some kind of agency. I assumed my father was fighting for the good guys."

"He was," Arthur nodded. He ran his fingers through her hair absently. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. He knew he definitely was vulnerable with her, way more vulnerable than he had been with anyone in his life, and it scared him. A lot.

"How did you escape?" Emily asked. He tensed a little just thinking about it. He hated thinking about it.

"Your father," he answered. She lifted her head to look at him then, and he looked back at her seriously.

"What?" she asked.

"It was a fluke, really. He must have been on a different mission, but he saw me and knew what was going on. He just knew. He never told me how he knew. One night, he helped orchestrate my escape with a delivery truck. I saw him again about ten years later, and he took me under his wing."

"I remember you looked so serious," Emily said, thinking about it. "At dinner."

"I was nervous."

"Why?"

"He was letting me meet his family. It meant I was important to him."

"And you didn't want to screw it up?" Emily finished for him.

"Exactly," Arthur nodded.

"After you moved on, he wasn't really the same," Emily said after a moment. "I think he regretted letting you move on."

Arthur didn't have a response. He wondered what Aaron would think of him now for killing Harry.

"You never take that off," Emily said, tapping his watch suddenly. She had noticed that about him.

"Nope," he answered.

"It means something to you," she noted.

"It does."

"Care to share?" she asked, looking at him. He smiled. He debated messing with her and not telling her the truth, but she made him want to tell the truth. She had that affect on him too.

"My father gave it to me."

"It's very special then," she commented. She knew without him telling her that he'd lost his parents before he got taken away and sold.

"Mmhmm."

They were quiet for a moment, both thinking about the ones they'd lost.

"I should probably go to my own bed now," she said after a bit. "Keep Steve off our case."

"Right," Arthur agreed. Emily gave him one last soft kiss then before sliding out and padding off to her room. Arthur still couldn't help but feel that Emily was somehow going to get hurt or that she was going to hurt him. He wondered about what they had just done. He was suddenly thinking that it hadn't been a good idea. He cared about her too strongly, and that was dangerous in the kind of job he was in. She could get hurt from someone who had a grudge against him or used as leverage, and he never wanted that to happen. With a sinking feeling, he realized that he couldn't keep this going if he wanted to keep her safe, and he had no idea how to tell her.

...

"No swim today?" Steve asked Emily the next morning. "It's hot out here. I'm surprised you never swim."

"I just don't like it," she answered. Emily was feeling more alive than she had in a long time. She'd wished she had just stayed with Arthur all night.

"Too bad."

"Don't you have somewhere to be? With your dog?"

"Ah, yes. You're right. I digress. See you later," Steve said, clicking his tongue and giving her a wink. Emily took this to mean he either hadn't heard them last night or he was doing a great acting job.

"Don't ding the boat," Arthur said as Steve passed him.

"I wouldn't do that."

"There's a big scratch on it now, and you've used it last."

"Docks don't give," Steve shrugged. Arthur gave him an annoyed look but let it go. Steve picked up the dog and headed out. Arthur knew it would soon be time to tell him who his target was and to prep him for the final act. When Steve was gone, he and Emily looked at each other, but neither of them said a word. Arthur didn't know how to tell her what he was thinking. He didn't like to admit that he had felt more vulnerable with her than he had with anyone, that he was falling in too deep with her and how being with him was dangerous, and he didn't want that for her.

Emily wondered what he was thinking. He made no move to kiss her again or anything. She wondered if she had misread him. She felt a little hurt because she'd told him a part of her history that no one knew. Her own parents didn't even know. She would have eventually told her father, but now she never could. Was Arthur seriously going to pretend last night didn't happen?

"Coffee?" he asked after a while.

"Okay," she nodded. He was going to pretend. So this was how it was going to be. They were going to be awkward around each other. Emily was at a loss as to why Arthur changed his mind about her. Had she done something wrong? If only he'd stay still long enough to talk to him. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he was avoiding her, and that really stung.

...

Steve knew that Emily and Arthur had slept together the night before. He wasn't an idiot. It irked him that despite all his efforts, Emily had no interest in him. What had he done wrong? He hoped Arthur was going to tell him what this mission was and soon. Steve knew it had to be a mission because why else would it be so specific, what he was doing? He thought about Emily again and grew frustrated. He wasn't going to give up hope, though. Not yet.


	8. Chapter 8

**Potential triggering scenes are in this chapter.**

* * *

Arthur felt bad. He wanted to express to Emily that what had happened between them had meant something to him, that it was his fear that was causing him to be distant, but expressing his emotions was not his strong suit. He could tell she was hurt and confused, but he didn't know how to fix the chasm that was quickly growing between them because of his silence. He felt angry at himself for hurting her after knowing he shouldn't have moved forward like that in their relationship to start with.

"Okay," Steve said, returning from his job. It was two days after Arthur and Emily had slept together. Arthur had a feeling that Steve knew about it.

"What?" he asked, annoyed.

"When am I actually going to do something related to being a hitman?" Steve asked.

"You are. It's not all just about killing the person," Arthur answered.

"Right," Steve said. "I'm ready to finish the job."

Arthur studied him carefully. He had his doubts, but he also knew that you learned by doing. You also learned by observing. Arthur had a side job that had come up, and he decided he would take Steve with him.

"Arthur?" Emily asked when he was alone and getting ready to go.

"Yea?" They looked at each other.

_Say something!_ his brain screamed at him. _Tell her!_

"Be careful," she said. She turned and left before he could say anything else. He had never felt so frustrated with himself in his whole life.

...

When they returned, Emily knew Arthur had killed someone. It was all in his eyes. Steve was thrilled. He had a gleam about him that just felt wrong. Emily didn't like his sly grin. While Arthur went to wash his hands, Steve went over to Emily.

"Did you miss me?" he asked her. She caught Arthur watching. It crossed her mind that she could force him to say what he was feeling by going after Steve, but she had zero interest in touching Steve. She didn't even like breathing in the same air as him. She also wasn't that kind of girl.

"Like one misses lice," she answered. She caught Arthur's smile. Steve was not impressed.

"What do I gotta do, huh?" he asked.

"For what?"

"To make you be into me."

Emily crossed her arms and gave him a serious look then.

"I will never be into you."

"Why not?"

"You're not my type."

"Oh. But he's your type," Steve said, gesturing to Arthur, who was still quiet but listening.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, playing dumb.

"Please. You think I'm stupid? I know you two knocked boots," Steve said, looking at them both now.

"Shut up, Steve," Arthur finally said. "Your assumptions and accusations are tiring. Give it a rest. She's not into you. Find someone else."

Steve glowered at Arthur, who held his ground. He eventually bent to pick up the dog that was scrabbling at his legs and went outside. Emily had a bad feeling about Steve suddenly, but she pushed it down. She went to walk past Arthur when he reached to catch her arm.

"Emily," he started.

"What?" she asked. Her tone was a bit impatient, but she was feeling that way in that moment.

"I'm sorry," he said after a pause.

"For?"

"All of this."

"Was I just another meaningless face to you?" she asked him.

"No," he shook his head vehemently. "No, you weren't."

"Then what? Did I do something wrong? Say something wrong? Why are you acting like it never happened?" she asked.

"Because if I act like it happened, then I'm in serious shit," Arthur answered. She was surprised at this.

"Why?"

"Because I'm falling for you hard, and I never do that. I don't get close to people. I don't let them know me."

"Arthur..."

"Being with me is the worst thing you could do," he insisted. "I'm really doing you a favor."

Emily pulled her arm from his grip then, and she didn't know what to say.

"All right then," she finally managed to say when her brain failed her. She walked away, and Arthur felt terrible for shattering her hopes.

...

Sherry stayed up late, working on her theory. She just had a missing face as to who would frame Emily and why. Had they known Emily was going to be at the house? Were they intentionally framing her? Or was it just a happy coincidence? She knew Jack thought she was nuts for running on fumes with this one, but he let her. She was determined to clear Emily's name because more and more she had convinced herself that Emily was innocent.

She just had to prove it.

**Days Later**

"Understand?" Arthur asked Steve, who was listening but also had a glazed look in his eyes. It bothered Arthur a little just how much Steve enjoyed talking about killing people. Doing it and getting off on it were two different things in Arthur's eyes.

"Yea," Steve nodded.

"You have to get the confession from him," Arthur said firmly. "That is important. We have to clear Emily's name."

"Of course."

Arthur had to tell Steve that part in order to explain the mission in it's entirety. Steve knew Emily was on the run from something anyway. He wasn't a complete idiot.

"Make it clean and quick," Arthur instructed. "Don't deviate from the plan."

"I won't," Steve said. He'd gotten himself a date with Burke, and he was going to kill Burke that night during said date. Arthur had a bad feeling when Steve got ready to leave. He felt it in his bones that something was going to go wrong.

...

Steve didn't want to do a clean kill. He wanted it to be messy. He wanted the violence. He needed to feel Burke's bones under his knuckles. He let himself be taken back to Burke's apartment, and things got out of hand. Now Steve was being thrown around and beaten on, but he was giving Burke just as much of a beating in return. Then he remembered. He needed that damn confession.

"Arggghhh!" he shouted, taking the broken glass and stabbing Burke with it three times. Burke fell finally, and he landed hard on his face. Steve then broke a vase over his head to make sure the guy didn't get back up. He was quite a large man.

"Hey," Steve said after. "Hey!"

Burke's eyes rolled around until they focused on him. Steve pulled out his phone to record it.

"Why did you frame Emily for David Stevenson's death?"

"What?" Burke choked. He was dying quickly. He knew that.

"You killed David and framed Emily. Just admit it," Steve ordered.

"I...have no...idea...what you're...talking...about..." Burke managed to say before he groaned and spluttered out his last breath. Steve stopped the recording and stayed squatting above Burke, letting the adrenaline finally hit him. Then he left.

...

Emily was pacing. Her anxiety was high. It wasn't like she wanted to see another person die, but when this person was trying to kill her, she wasn't particularly fussed about it.

"Do you think he did it?" she asked. Arthur was sitting at the table and going over his notes.

"What?" he questioned, looking at her. He hadn't been listening.

"Steve. Did he kill the guy by now?"

"Should have."

Arthur still felt bad for the other day when he told Emily she was better off without him. They'd been polite to each other since, but he knew he'd hurt her. He just kept reminding himself that he was saving her life by keeping her away from him.

At this moment, Steve came barreling inside. Arthur knew right away he had deviated from the plan. It was all over Steve's face, literally. It was like someone had used his face as a door stop. Multiple times.

"What did you do?" he demanded, getting up and going over to him.

"He's dead," Steve answered. "Mission accomplished."

"Not the way you were supposed to," Arthur noted.

"No, but it was still done."

"The confession?"

"He has no idea what you're talking about," Steve said, pulling up the video to show Arthur, who frowned as he watched.

"What?" Emily asked. "He...he didn't do it?"

"Seems that way," Arthur answered, watching Burke's face carefully. The confusion was genuine. How had Dean screwed up? They were going to have a conversation really soon. Burke had done other, horrible things too, so he was still a target in a sense. Arthur had just wanted it to be over so Emily could go clear her name and get on with her life.

"Great," Emily said. "Now we have no idea who's framing me, and no leads or evidence. Just great." She went outside to breathe. Arthur watched her go.

"That was awesome," Steve said, grinning. "Like, so awesome."

"Go clean up," Arthur ordered. Steve didn't argue. He desperately needed a shower.

...

Sherry was back in Emily's apartment looking for clues. She searched high and low. Somehow, that gun was put in her bedside drawer. She examined the windows carefully before noticing something on the floor underneath one of them. How had the crime scene people missed this? She bent down and saw it was some dirt. She documented it with her camera, bagged it, and kept looking. If anything, that dirt was going to match the dirt in Miranda's yard. Sherry stuck her head out the one window and smiled. There was a smudge on the outside wall. No rain had come to wash it off yet. She photographed it and took a sample of it too, and she felt triumphant as she went to the lab. One thing was for sure. Emily Charlton would not be climbing in through her window to return home. She was one step closer to freeing Emily from being a suspect.

...

"You shouldn't be here," Arthur insisted as they sat at the bar. Steve had wanted to go out and celebrate. Arthur needed to get away and clear his head. Emily was tired of being holed up in the house, so she wanted to go too, much to Arthur's chagrin. Part of clearing his head was to not have her around. Plus, she was a wanted fugitive.

"I'm hidden," she insisted. Her hair was in a tight bun and hidden under a ball cap. She was pretty certain a bunch of drunk people wouldn't recognize her from the news.

Arthur felt a tap on his shoulder then, and he turned to see Sarah walking past him and giving him a look. His stomach lurched a little. If he'd never met Emily, he probably would have gotten up to follow her.

"That's your chick, isn't it?" Steve asked, making Arthur want to strangle the man.

"What? Who?" Emily asked, looking around. She spotted Sarah before too long, and she felt disappointed. The woman was very beautiful.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur muttered.

"The one you had a one night stand with," Steve insisted. "I heard about it from Dad before he died."

Arthur could feel Emily's eyes boring into his skull, but he refused to look at her. He sipped his beer instead.

"Wow," a woman said, coming up to Steve. "That looks painful."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Steve shrugged.

"I wish someone would hurt me like that," the woman commented. Both Arthur and Emily sensed the change in Steve then.

"Let's go," Steve said, hopping off his stool and taking her hand. They hustled out the back door.

"Oh, come on," Emily said, disgusted. "Really?"

"Better her than you, right?" Arthur countered.

"I'm going to pretend you did not just say that," she growled. She was feeling irritable. The Sarah girl was still making eyes at Arthur. Emily wondered if she hadn't come, would Arthur have gone with this woman?

"Wanna dance?" a guy asked her, startling her. She looked at him and looked at Arthur. She couldn't read his expression, but she didn't care what he thought. He'd used her and left her out to dry. He tried to claim it was for her own good. Well, then she was free to do whatever she wanted.

"All right," she agreed, getting up and going with him.

"Jeff," he said.  
"Lucy," she lied.

She felt Arthur watching them dance for the entire time.

...

Arthur saw Dean calling, so he went to answer.

"What?" Dean asked.

"You got bad information," Arthur answered. "Burke didn't do it."

"What? Are you sure?"

"He was genuinely surprised to know anything about what had happened there," Arthur explained.

"All right. Let me do some digging."

"Dig fast," Arthur ordered before hanging up. He wanted this resolved for Emily. He didn't want her to have to spend her whole life looking over her shoulder. She didn't deserve that.

...

Steve returned with obvious signs that he'd had sex with that woman out back. Arthur was still watching Emily, and he felt his jealousy kick in. The guy was mauling her, and she was letting him. Was she trying to piss him off?

"Now you know how it feels," Steve commented, getting another drink and downing it.

"What?" Arthur asked.

"To want someone who's with someone else."

Arthur just gave him a deadpan stare in return. When he looked back, Emily and the guy were gone. He started.

"What?" Steve asked.

"She's gone," he answered.

"Probably just going out back to get busy," Steve shrugged, swigging his new beer.

"Stay put," Arthur ordered, getting off the stool and going to find Emily.

"What are ya gonna do? Break it up? It's happening, man. Let it go," Steve said, slurring a little. Arthur ignored him and continued to the door. He went outside and could hear talking around the corner, so he investigated. Sure enough, Emily was making out with the guy. He felt gutted. He wasn't sure why he was watching. He'd told her she couldn't be with him, so what was wrong with her being with someone else? He turned to go when he heard Emily protest.

"Please stop," she was saying.

"Seriously?!" the guy exclaimed.

Arthur had already changed direction and was hurrying to where they were. The guy had Emily pinned against the wall.

"Hey," Arthur called. They both turned to see him.

"Friend of yours?" the guy asked.

"Not really," Emily answered. That one hurt, but he knew he deserved it.

"We have to get going," Arthur went on, ignoring it all.

"Ten minutes, man," the guy said. "She's all yours after that."

"I'm good. I think I'm gonna go," Emily said, trying to get around him. He was blocking her.

"You can't just lead a guy on like that and then not follow through," Jeff said angrily.

Arthur moved to intervene when she swiftly punched the guy in the throat, making him choke and back off.

"You came onto me, and I said no," she told him, flicking his face with her finger and making the guy squawk. She headed towards Arthur and stopped in front of him, her eyes daring him to say something about what had just happened.

He had a bunch of things he wanted to say. "I'm sorry" was one of them.

She went back inside before Arthur could speak. He kicked at the dirt before going in after her. They all left shortly after that, and it was a very quiet ride back home.


	9. Chapter 9

Emily awoke the next morning feeling sluggish. She went out of her room to find Arthur taking down his photos and intel on Burke. He was already setting up another target. Emily picked up the photo and examined it.

"Andrew Vaughn?" she asked.

"Cult leader," Arthur answered.

"Oh."

Arthur was still picturing her with the guy from the night before. It bothered him how much seeing her kiss another man bothered him. His mind was wandering so much that he stuck himself with his own pin.

"Urgh!" he grunted loudly. Emily looked to see what happened and watched him slowly pull the pin out of his thumb.

"Are you okay?" she asked, going over to him.

"Just fine," he answered. His thumb was bleeding everywhere of course. He was about to go find a tissue when she pulled one out of her pocket.

"Here," she said, wrapping his thumb with it carefully. Arthur wished her touch didn't electrify him as much as it did.

"Thanks," he nodded. For a moment, they stood there looking at each other, and he greatly contemplated just kissing her and forgetting about his "don't get close" rule.

"Oohh new target already?" Steve asked, coming into view and effectively shattering the moment. Emily released his hand and walked away.

"Yea," Arthur replied. Steve came over to examine the board.

"Let's do it," he said. Arthur watched Emily go outside before putting his attention back to what he was doing.

...

Miranda was going through David's phone. She didn't know why. Cassidy had brought it to her after finding it in her backpack. She hadn't had the heart to look at it until now. She turned it on and began to snoop around.

She most certainly did not like what she found.

...

"You're positive?" Sherry asked the lab tech.

"Yes. It's a match," the tech nodded.

Sherry felt excited. Whoever had broken into Emily's apartment had also been at Miranda's house. The dirt was a match. Her theory was becoming a fact. Jack was not in the office at the moment, so she hurried to log her findings. She'd fill him in later. He'd see that she wasn't just someone who had fantastical ideas. She was a good police officer. Now she just had to figure out who put the dirt from Miranda's yard at Emily's place.

...

The hitman was beginning to wonder just where Emily had gone. She hadn't surfaced since that night, and he had a feeling he knew where she was. He conjured the man's face again, the one who had run off with her. She must have gone with him. Once he figured out who that man was and where he lived, he was very certain he'd find Emily. Then he'd finish the job.

And then he'd figure out where David had hidden his phone.

...

"There she is," Steve said, coming down the hill where Emily was target practising. She gripped her gun tightly. It was all she had not to pop him. He was seriously still trying to hit on her even after everything.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly.

"If you gave me a chance, I could show you that I'm worth it," Steve told her. He got disturbingly close to her, and she refrained from gagging at the smell of cigarette smoke.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not interested?" she asked.

"Maybe after the tenth time, you'll say yes," he countered.

"Absolutely not," she said through gritted teeth.

"Oye! Steve!" Arthur shouted from on top of the hill. "We're not done here!"

"Saved by the boy," Steve said, stepping back from her. "Clearly he's done with you. I'd never drop you like that."

"Leave me alone," Emily warned. Steve just laughed and walked back up the hill towards Arthur. Emily turned away to avoid seeing Arthur's face. They'd spent most of the time walking around each other carefully, and she was tired of it. Something had to give, and it had to happen soon.

...

Sherry was surprised to see Miranda standing in front of her in the police station. She figured she would never see the woman again.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"This," Miranda answered, shoving the phone into Sherry's hands.

"Oh...okay," Sherry said, taking it gingerly. "Where did you find it?" Why hadn't any of the other officers found it and brought it in?

"My daughter found it in her backpack."

Sherry found this intriguing. What was David's phone doing there? Most people kept their phones on them tightly nowadays.

"What am I looking at?" Sherry asked, scanning it.

"He was cheating on me, for one," Miranda said, showing her the messages. Sherry winced. They were pretty graphic.

"Okay. What else?"

"This," Miranda said, showing her photos. Sherry swallowed. They were so vile she could barely stomach looking at them.

"Oh dear. Okay. Yup," she nodded. It matched what David's file had said about him.

"And this," Miranda said, showing her another string of messages. "I think he had a partner."

Sherry stared at the messages. It made sense, really.

"Thank you for bringing this to me," Sherry said then.

"You can keep it," Miranda sniffed. "I don't ever want to see it again."

"Okay."

Miranda stalked off, but Sherry could tell the woman had lost a notch or two from her poker straight demeanor. It must be so hard finding out what your husband was really all about. Sherry uploaded the photos and messages to her computer. She scrolled through the messages to a "Ronan" and wondered who it was. Were they the reason David was dead? Had a deal gone wrong somewhere? Sherry really wanted answers, and she wasn't going to stop until she got them.

...

It was evening again, and Emily was sitting outside and looking at the stars. She wasn't tired. She kept thinking about how she was wanted for murder. Had that been solved yet? Had they figured it out that she didn't do it? She had had so much hope that getting Burke to confess would clear her name. She had no idea what to even do now. She might have to stay in hiding forever. She didn't think Arthur would appreciate that. She needed to make a plan and soon.

Footsteps in the grass made her turn to see Arthur coming towards her.

"Hey," he said.

"All finished up then?" she asked. He and Steve had worked on that board and their plan all day aside from Steve's little side trip to see her and try to ask her out again.

"I just thought I'd come see if you were okay," he said, sitting in the chair beside her.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" she asked him, not looking at him. Looking at him hurt. Could he not tell that there was chemistry between them? Had their night together really meant nothing to him? She regretted doing it now. If she'd known he was going to do this to her, she wouldn't have done it.

"This whole being wanted for murder thing is draining I imagine," he commented. She scoffed.

"We're not all experts at killing people and making it look like an accident," she replied.

"You didn't do it, though."

"I know that. I was there," she said hotly.

"I know."

Emily wished he would just say it. He obviously had something on his mind. He kept playing with his fingers and exhaling rather roughly. Was talking to her such torture?

"I'm sorry," Arthur blurted out then, surprising her. She finally looked at him.

"For what?"

"For hurting you."

"And how did you hurt me?" she asked, making him tell her. He knew what she was doing, but he went along with it.

"I got scared," he told her.

"What?" she asked, feeling genuinely confused now. "Why?"

"I've just...I've never felt like this with anyone before, and...it scares me," he finished awkwardly. He was so not good at baring his soul. They looked at each other, and he could see her processing his words.

"Let me clarify," she said. "I scare you."

"You don't scare me. The feelings scare me," he clarified. She blinked.

"The feelings?"

"I have very strong feelings for you," he confessed. "I've never had them before. I don't know what to do with them. I worry that being with me will hurt you, and I never want you to get hurt."

Emily paused to think over all of this. She knew it was taking a lot for him to tell her all of this.

"Why don't you let me decide what I want?" she asked after a moment.

"Okay," he agreed. He watched her get up from her chair and stand in front of him. He wondered if she was going to kick him or something. He deserved it for being so stupid. Instead, she climbed into his lap and took his face in her hands, touching her forehead to his.

"You don't have to be scared," she said quietly. "You've got me, and I'll help you."

"It's only a matter of time before someone comes after me," he pointed out.

"Then we'll deal with it when it happens," she finished for him. She'd made up her mind. There was nothing for her back in New York. She didn't want to go back even when her name got cleared. If it got cleared. No, when. She had to keep thinking positively.

"You're sure?" Arthur asked. His hands were on her sides now, holding her tightly.

"I'm sure," she nodded. He kissed her softly then, taking her hands from his face and pulling her into him. He wondered if he was doing the right thing, but it really felt like the right thing in that moment.

**The Next Day**

Emily didn't want the day to start. She knew that when it did, Arthur was going with Steve to eliminate Andrew Vaughn. Even though their plan was down to a science, she still worried something was going to happen, that he wasn't going to come back.

"Mmph," he grunted when she held onto him tighter. He lifted his head to look at her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just scared," she whispered. He sat up and pulled her in close, his fingers playing with her hair. The sun was coming into his bedroom window brightly now, making him squint.

"It'll be fine," he promised.

"And if it isn't?"

"I don't think that way," he answered.

"I wish I had your confidence."

"It's not like what happened to your father. I'm not being set up."

"How do you know?" Emily asked. "He didn't think he was either."

Her mother's howls and screams came to her mind then as she recalled the memory of the police telling them her father was dead. She shook her head to clear it.

"Nothing is going to happen to me," Arthur assured her. "When I get back, we can clear out of here."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere."

She looked at him with an unconvinced look, but his was serious in return.

"Really," she said.

"Mmhmm," he nodded.

"I'll think about it."

"Okay," he agreed. They started kissing again, and, well, one thing led to another.

...

Sherry almost jumped out of her skin when Jack appeared at her desk. She had been going through footage from David's phone.

"Miranda Priestly was here?" Jack asked. "What for?"

"Oh. She just gave me an update," Sherry lied. She didn't know why she was lying. It wasn't like he wouldn't read her report at the end of the day. She just didn't want to hear him say she was chasing down an imaginary lead again. She was keeping her cards close until she had enough to show him she was right. She wanted to shock him with her news.

"I think this is a dead case, Sherry," Jack said. "You gotta let it go."

"At the end of the week," she promised. He shook his head, grinning.

"All right," he agreed. "But not a minute longer."

"Deal."

Sherry smiled as he walked away. Then she grew solemn. She picked up David's phone that she had been hiding and brought up the one number she had vaguely recognized, the one that belonged to Ronan. Not sure exactly what she was doing, she dialed it.

Down the hall, Jack's cell phone started to ring.


	10. Chapter 10

**Trigger warning for this chapter.**

* * *

What the actual shit? Sherry stared as Jack looked at his phone and frowned. Then he paled. She spun back in her seat when she saw him turn to look around the room. She had been so stupid. She should have blocked David's number first. Now Jack knew someone had David's phone. She tucked it down deep into her purse. Jack hurried off to his office and shut the door behind him. Sherry stared at her desk, her mind running wild. He'd answered the phone when she called the contact named Ronan, which meant only one thing.

Jack was definitely Ronan.

...

"Please be safe," Emily said to Arthur as he got ready. She was lying on his bed fully dressed, watching. She could hear Steve muttering and banging around in the other room.

"I will," he promised. He bent to kiss her one last time.

"One for the road," she wheedled when he stopped.

"That's what that was," Arthur said laughing.

"Another," she ordered.

"All right," he caved. He moved in fast and gripped her head tightly, kissing her hard.

"Just send Steve," Emily said, feeling dazed afterwards.

"It's a two man job," Arthur replied. "Sorry, luv. You're just gonna have to wait."

Emily sighed but gave him a smile. She'd wait all right. She padded after him when he grabbed his bag and left his room.

"Back at it, huh," Steve noted, looking at them.

"Are you ready?" Arthur asked, ignoring him.

"Oh yea."

"Then let's go."

Steve went outside first. Emily hugged Arthur again, afraid to let him go.

"What if you don't come back?" she asked. He pulled back and moved to take off his watch. "What are you doing?"

"This will ensure I come back," he answered, putting it on her wrist. She was very surprised. She knew how much that watch meant to him.

"You're sure?"

"Yes," he answered, cupping her cheek with his hand. "I'm sure."

She kissed him again, and he desperately hoped it wasn't the last time they'd have that chance. After he pulled away, Arthur gave Emily one last wave as they walked outside and headed for the boat. For some reason, Emily had a really sinking feeling in her gut that was telling her something was going to go very wrong.

...

Sherry's mind was on fire as she worked furiously. If Jack was Ronan, then he was working with David. If he was working with David, then he was a very bad man. Her boss! She couldn't believe it. Didn't these things only happen on television? She had no idea what to do. Then it hit her. If she could match dirt from his shoe to the dirt she'd found, she'd have him. She jiggled her leg anxiously, watching Jack through his office window. He looked nervous and ill suddenly. Then he got up and grabbed his coat. She knew he was going out, and she decided this was her chance to search his office. Perhaps there would be an evident clue there. Sherry knew she had to be very careful. If this backfired, she was probably dead.

...

It was a long time later when Steve returned. He was alone, and Emily felt sick.

"What happened?" she asked.

"It went to hell, but we split up. Don't worry. Lover boy will be here soon," Steve said snidely. He was still sore for not winning Emily over. She felt immense relief that Arthur was okay. She went outside to get some air. He'd be back before she knew it. She couldn't wait.

...

Arthur was sick. The conversation he'd had with a supposedly dead man was playing in his mind over and over. Harry hadn't betrayed their men. Harry had been framed by Dean. Arthur had been set up and tricked. Dean was a dead man now. With shaking hands he drove his truck. When he got to the docks, he noticed that Henry was dead. It broke something inside of him, seeing that. Who would kill a harmless guy holding a liquor bottle and watching over boats? He knew he was in trouble, and if he was in trouble, then Steve and Emily were most likely in trouble. Arthur had killed the other mechanic who told Arthur what Dean had done, that the whole thing was a plan and that Harry was collateral because he was figuring out what was going on. He sensed he was going to have company, so he got into the water after grabbing a fishing spear. When one of Dean's men got within reach, he lurched out of the water and rammed the spear into the man's leg. Then he shot and killed the others quickly. He pulled himself out of the water and hurried to his boat, calling Steve along the way.

"Oh, hey," Steve said. "So, where are ya?"

"Do you have company?" Arthur asked.

"Well, the apples went bad," Steve answered. "Rotten actually. All four of them."

This was code for there was four bad guys standing in the room with him.

"There's a gun in the couch. Left arm," Arthur said.

"Oh, but I'm just not a lefty," Steve answered.

"Well, then you're dead," Arthur retorted. In moments, he heard gunshots go off.

"Bastards," Steve said after.

"Where's Emily?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know. She went outside. I haven't seen her since."

"Shit," Arthur said. "Shit, shit, shit!"

He hung up on Steve and panicked. Where was Emily? Had they taken her? He'd never forgive himself if something bad had happened to her.

...

She had found and documented the dirt in Jack's office from a pair of boots that were tucked away. She felt sick as she did all of this. Jack was her boss. She had trusted him. How could he be the bad guy? Her mind was running fast. She was also thinking about why David's phone ended up in the daughter's back pack? Had he hidden it there when he thought someone was breaking into his house? That was the only thing that made sense to her. She couldn't ask him because he was dead. Her phone buzzed suddenly with a text message from Jack.

**Heading out of town for a bit. Keep me posted on the case! Remember, nothing past the end of the week. J.**

**Righto**, she answered. Then she winced. Righto? What was wrong with her? Did she want him to guess she was on to him? And where the hell was Jack going? She decided she was going to find out. She began to trace his phone.

...

Emily didn't like these men. She had been ambushed outside. She'd put up a fight, but she ultimately lost in the end. She was then taken to a guy named Dean, who she knew was Arthur's boss. She felt confused. Why was Arthur's boss doing this?

"If anything is gonna make him crawl out of that hole, it'll be you," Dean commented, looking at her. She glared back.

"He will kill you," she said. Dean laughed.

"He can try. You're that girl from the news," he went on. "Emily Charlton. Wanted for murder."

Emily felt sick. What was he going to do with her?

"Blonde doesn't really suit you," he gestured. "But it's a disguise, right?"

Emily said nothing. She really hoped Arthur would find her and soon. She hoped he knew where to look.

...

Steve had gone out to the garage to look for something as they loaded up to leave. He stumbled across a box that had a gun in it. Frowning, he picked the gun up. He instantly recognized it as his father's gun. Suddenly, Steve knew that Arthur had killed his father and blamed it on a carjacker. Hot rage filled him quickly, but he swallowed it down. He couldn't act on this just yet. He'd keep it to himself until the right moment presented itself. He pocketed the gun and went back to join Arthur.

...

Why was Jack going to New Orleans? Sherry wondered. She had checked out his flight he'd booked. She had been there, so why was he going there? Something wasn't right. Her gut was suddenly telling her that she needed to get down there and fast.

Without telling anyone for fear they were on Jack's side, Sherry left for New Orleans.

...

Arthur and Steve loaded up for war. Arthur was taking down Dean once and for all, and he was going to get Emily back. He knew Dean had her. Who else had been there?

"She's pretty tough," Steve commented. "I think she'll be all right."

"I hope so," Arthur muttered. He couldn't stop thinking about her. This was why he didn't do this. This was why he kept to himself. When you cared about someone, they were used against you to make you hurt and suffer. He loaded his last gun and looked at Steve, who seemed oddly quiet for some reason.

"Let's go," he said. Steve nodded, and they were off.

...

Dean was sitting there looking bored when a tall, blonde haired man came into the room. Emily had no idea who he was. She'd never seen him before in her life. What did he want with her? Was it someone from her father's past looking for revenge?

"I got her. As promised," Dean gestured.

"This mess needs to end now," the man said, looking at Emily. She stared back.

"She's all yours," Dean said. The man went over and hauled Emily to her feet roughly. She felt scared now.

"The whole world has been looking for you," he said to her as they walked down to his car. "They can keep looking, but I'll make sure they never find you."

They could hear Dean shouting in the distance about Bishop being in the building. Emily felt hope rise in her chest. Arthur was there! The man pulled her towards the waiting car, and she caught a glimpse of Dean and his men racing for his car. She was shoved inside, her hands zip tied in front of her. She twisted to see what was going on behind her, but she couldn't see anything. Where was Arthur?

...

Arthur was lying in wait. He knew Dean would run to his car. He'd finish him on the streets.

"Harry's death was business," Dean had said when Arthur called him just now. "He was worth 50 million."

It made Arthur that much more angry. He revved the car as he watched the procession line come. Then he flew out of the parking garage and straight into one of the cars. He grunted in pain from the impact but kept moving. He got out of the car and shot at Dean's men before jumping into a garbage truck. Steve was hijacking a bus, and they were gonna corner Dean. As always, everything worked to plan, and Dean's car flipped end over end before stopping. Steve and Arthur walked over to where was panting and bleeding.

"Where's Emily?" Arthur asked him.

"You were supposed to kill David and Ronan," Dean said, coughing.

"You only gave me one target, not two," Arthur replied, getting angrier.

"Well, I was hoping you'd take out Ronan anyway since he was there with a gun," Dean commented. "Ronan had to go. You f****d up."

"No, you did," Arthur disagreed. "Tell me where Emily is."

"Long gone," Dean smirked. "Ronan has her. You'll never find her." That was enough for Arthur. He and Steve unloaded their machine guns into Dean, and when his gun was empty, Arthur walked away, feeling the burn of hatred and anger in his soul as he did so. His only hope was that he found Emily before it was too late.


	11. Chapter 11

**Trigger warning for this chapter.**

* * *

Sherry was winded as she ran. Jack's phone trace was still up and running. He was in a hotel room. She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to find when she got there, but she knew she had to stop him. She had a very bad feeling about what he was planning on doing.

...

Emily did her best to appear unfazed by the fact she was tied to a chair. The man was pacing around and muttering to himself.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You might as well tell me your name then," she said. "So I know who's killing me."

"Aaron Smith's daughter really is a tough cookie," he commented. She froze.

"How do you know that name?" she demanded. He went over to her and stood in front of her.

"Because I killed him," he answered simply. "He was too close on my trail, so I lured him and killed him. Then I leaked his information to the police."

Emily wanted to stab this man over and over until she had nothing left. The rage was raw and powerful inside of her. So this was Ronan.

"I have to admit," he said, pacing again. "I really thought you'd be just like him. You certainly have his features. If you just had stayed home that night like you were supposed to, none of this would be happening to you."

"You killed David Stevenson," she said, realizing. Of course. He was tall. If you put a ski mask on him, it was definitely him.

"That's right. Dean sent your friend to kill David and me because I had also become bad for business, but Dean is an idiot who keeps people in the dark, so that failed. I knew your friend would finish him off after finding out he set up Harry McKenna. I didn't need to get my hands dirty over that one."

Emily felt stunned. Arthur had killed Harry based on Dean's information, that he had been a traitor. Dean had lied. She knew what Arthur was feeling right now.

"I'm just waiting for my private jet to be ready. Then you're done," Ronan said. Emily swallowed. She hoped that someone would find her soon, but her hopes were beginning to fade just a little bit. She kept stretching the ropes around her wrists, though. If she could get one hand free, she'd be good to go. She hoped Ronan wouldn't notice what she was doing.

...

"You put a tracker on her?" Steve asked, surprised. Arthur was looking at the screen as Steve drove.

"Yes."

"So you didn't have to ask Dean where she was?"

"I was hoping he'd have some decency left in him, but clearly not. Left here," Arthur said. He'd left her his watch the last time he saw her, which he had installed a tracker in. Thankfully, she'd left it on.

Steve obliged, turning sharply around the corner. They were going to rescue Emily and then disappear, but there was a hitch to this plan. Steve was going to kill Arthur once this was over as revenge for killing Harry. He might even kill Emily too. He wasn't sure yet. A part of him had the fantasy that she'd run off with him.

"Stop," Arthur said, and Steve hit the brakes a bit too hard, causing Arthur to lurch forward. He shot Steve a look.

"Sorry," Steve said, not sorry at all. They got out and headed towards the hotel. What Steve didn't know was that Arthur had seen him with Harry's gun before they had even left his house, so he knew that Steve knew the truth. It was only a matter of time before shit really hit the fan, but first, they had to save Emily.

...

Sherry couldn't hear anything, but the "Do Not Disturb" sign was on the door. She knew this was his room. She had asked at the front desk and gotten an answer after flashing her badge. She knew she should have some kind of back up, but she continued on alone. She was hesitating outside the door until she made up her mind. She slid the room key in the door and pushed it open.

...

Emily almost had her wrist free. Ronan wasn't paying attention to her anymore. He was on his phone and growing impatient. When a message came through, she knew it was about his plane. He smiled.

"All right," he said. "I guess we're done here."

She didn't even close her eyes as he aimed the gun at her.

"Jack! Put the gun down!" a voice shouted. Jack whipped to see Sherry standing there, gun aimed at him.

"Sherry? What the hell?" Jack asked.

"I figured it out," she answered. "You had dirt in your office that matched the dirt from Miranda's home and outside Emily's apartment where you climbed in to plant the gun. You killed David. You were his partner. You're a dirty cop."

"Hey, now," Jack said, holding his hands up. "That's a very wild accusation."

"Do I have to call your phone again from David's?" she asked coldly. He went a little white in the face at this. She knew she had him there.

"You think you're just going to take me in?" he asked her. "You're sadly mistaken."

Emily got her wrist free, and she knew she had to do something or else that woman was going to get shot and killed. Then Emily was next.

"You're gonna come back to New York," Sherry said. "You've had your fun. It's time for the consequences."

"I don't think so," Jack sneered. Emily stood then, her left wrist still attached to the chair. She yelled and swung the chair into Jack, who grunted. He recovered quickly and sent Emily flying. She landed hard, winded, with a chair on her chest. She reached to untie her other wrist. She knew she had to get out of there. Sherry and Jack were fighting with fists now. A gun skidded towards Emily, and she grabbed it. She was not dying today.

...

"Sounds like the party started without us," Steve noted as he and Arthur approached the hotel room. The door was open, and they went inside. A tall, blonde man was throwing an African American woman around and swearing at her. Emily was reaching for the gun on the floor while pulling herself to the door with one arm. Steve held up his power rifle, aiming it at the man.

"STOP!" he shouted as Arthur headed for Emily. Both Sherry and Jack stopped. Sherry then used this opportunity to slug Jack hard, making him cough and swear again.

"Come on," Arthur said to Emily, bending down to pull her to her feet. "I've got you."

"Who's the cavalry?" Jack asked.

"We are just here for her," Steve said.

"Hands behind your head, Jack," Sherry said. "You're under arrest."

"He killed my father, Arthur," Emily said urgently. "He set him up. He killed David too. He admitted it all."

Arthur looked at Jack now, and he could tell he had been the other man in David's house that night.

"So what if I did? No one would miss them. They were killers and dealers. Your friend, Dean, was trying to take me out. He couldn't handle the competition," Jack sneered. "But you failed him."

"Not for long," Arthur said, raising his gun.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Sherry shouted. "I want him alive!"

"Do it," Jack egged Arthur on. "Come on. I know you want to. You've lost two mentors because of me and Dean. I know you've already killed Dean. He had it coming, though."

"Don't," Sherry said loudly. "Don't do it, sir!"

Arthur knew if he shot Jack, that woman would shoot him, and he did not want to die today. He lowered his gun, and Jack went to shoot him when Sherry unloaded into him, making Arthur shield Emily as best as he could as she shrieked.

"I thought you wanted him alive?" Steve asked her.

"Not at the cost of losing civilians," Sherry answered. She went over to Emily and helped Arthur free her. "Are you all right, Ms. Charlton?"

"I didn't kill anyone," Emily blurted, trying not to let all of this make her start crying.

"I know," Sherry nodded. "I'll fix that all up when I return to New York. I recorded everything. We got him." She tapped her torso where the wire was taped to her. She'd thought of that at the last minute before leaving New York.

Jack groaned then, surprising Steve and Arthur, and Sherry went to handcuff him. She had shot him, but she hadn't killed him. She knew how to take someone down without killing them.

"Come on, Jack," she said, hauling him to his feet. "You've got some 'splaining to do."

Emily hugged Arthur tightly once she was gone. Steve was out in the hall. She felt him pass her a set of keys, and she frowned.

"You're gonna go your own way," he murmured into her ear. "There's a truck." He told her where to find it.

"What about you?" she asked.

"I have to take care of something. I...I may or may not meet you."

"What?" she asked, gripping him tightly.

"Just trust me," he said strongly. "Wait for me. If I'm not there in an hour, leave. Everything you need is in that truck."

"But..." she started. Arthur cut her off with a kiss as he heard Steve coming back.

"Ugh, come on, man," Steve groaned. "Let's go home already."

Arthur pulled back and gave her a meaningful look, and she understood.

"I'm going back to New York," she said. "They're going to clear my name, and I'm going to figure out my next steps."

"Oh, that's too bad," Steve said. "I thought we could get to know each other more yet."

"Sorry," she apologized. She gave Arthur one last kiss. "I won't forget you or what you've done for me." She backed away and left them standing there. Arthur hoped Steve had bought it.

"Let's go home, brother," Steve said, bumping Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur knew that wouldn't be the case.

...

Sherry felt her blood pumping as she got on the next flight home with Jack. She'd solved the case. Emily was not a murderer. Her boss was a crook. It had been a long and exhausting day, and she was dreading all the paperwork, but it was worth it.

"You couldn't have just left it alone," Jack said to her, annoyed.

"I'm glad I didn't," she said. "I wouldn't be getting the chance to do this now would I?"

Jack had no comment, and Sherry smiled. Her career was gonna get boosted after this. She just knew it.

...

Arthur waited for the right moment. He knew Steve was filling the ground with gas and not the gas tank. He knew he was going to get blown up. He waited for that second that counted after Steve had walked out of sight, and he leaped out of the truck and rolled away just before the truck blew up. He waited for Steve to be gone before making his way to where he'd told Emily to wait for him. The black truck was still sitting there, and she jumped out of it when he walked towards it.

"What happened?" she asked, latching onto him. He held her tightly, breathing her in.

"Steve found out I killed his father," Arthur answered. "He tried to blow me up."

"Where is he now?"

"Most likely headed back to my place," Arthur replied.

"He's going to just live there?" she asked, surprised.

"That's what he thinks," Arthur said wryly. He knew Steve was gonna turn on his music and drive his car like he'd told him not to. It would be his demise either way.

"Where are we going to go?" Emily asked then, bringing him back to the present.

"I hear Rio is nice this time of year," Arthur told her, smiling. She smiled back slowly.

"I'm in," she said. He kissed her, knowing that he'd made the right decision by letting her get close to him.

"Come on," he said after. "Before anyone knows we're missing."

They got into the truck, and Emily took his hand in hers as he started it and they drove away. Wherever they went, Emily just wanted to be with him. If an adventure awaited them, then so be it. After all, a mechanic and a mechanic's daughter could survive any kind of mechanical breakdown as long as they were together.

**The End**

* * *

**Thank you to those who followed, favorited, and reviewed. I may or may not write a sequel involving the events of the second Mechanic film. That depends on how much you guys want me to write it. Until next time!**


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